Try to Fix You
by Cassiopeia823
Summary: You don't recognize me, do you?" She'd left him at Cal Tech, and disappeared. But Michelle's back, and as she and Reid rebuild their friendship, her past is slowly creeping up on her, to strike again...with a single shot. Reid/OFC Rated T for drug use.
1. Chapter 1

_So this story's been bouncing around in my head for a long time, and I hope it turns out better than my first drafts. I'll try to post new chapters regularly. Emphasis on the word TRY. This story's dedicated to my buddy Olivia, who's passion for CM and obsession for Reid outranks mine by a million._

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds, or any of it's affiliated characters, settings, ect._**

* * *

'So, are there any last minute questions before we run out of time?'

Reid's question was met by silence from the seventy or so university students in front of him. They had been silent the entire lecture and he had to wonder if they had simply been that interested in Sociopaths in Criminal Institutions, or if they had paid any attention at all.

Suddenly a hand shot up in the back. 'Dr. Reid, your work with the BAU has brought you into contact with a number of sociopaths; which one stands out most clearly to you? Which one has made the greatest impact on you?'

He was a little taken aback by the question, but answered it quickly. 'Frank Breitkopf. He was responsible for numerous brutal killings, and rather than be taken into custody, he and his partner jumped in front of a train. Shortly after that, my mentor Jason Gideon retired from the FBI, and has not been seen since.'

The bell signally the end of classes rang, and the students immediately rushed to the exits; they had been bored by his lecture. Reid knew he didn't have the knack for lecturing that Gideon had had, and Rossi still did. He supposed it was another one of those things where he'd simply given up charisma for intelligence. Then he noticed one of the students coming towards him, instead of heading for the door. It was the young woman who'd asked the question. She seemed about his own age, from what he could see in the poor light.

'I'm sorry Dr. Reid, if that seemed like a personal question. I can be rather nosy sometimes; my psychology training coming out in me I suppose.'

'It's fine. I can be the same way.'

She stepped closer, into the light of the lecture platform. 'You don't recognize me, do you?'

Looking at her fully, Reid saw she had reddish brown hair that framed a freckled face in soft spirals. And her eyes were such an unusual shade of blue-green, like aquamarines. He knew those eyes. 'Michelle?'

'Try Special Agent Dr. Michelle Soraley.' Michelle grinned. 'How long has it been since we were at Cal Tech?'

'Together? Eleven years and three months. You've been with the FBI this entire time?'

'Only the last three years. I prolonged my education for a few years. Yale…was great. I'm up to four doctorates and two masters.'

'PhD's in Engineering, Chemistry, Psychology…' Reid remembered.

'And Philosophy.' She supplied. 'The masters are in Literature and Anthropology.'

Reid realized he'd stopped packing away his notes; he was still a little shocked to be speaking to Michelle after so long. They'd fallen out of touch once she was accepted to Yale. 'So you know I'm with the BAU; what unit are you on?' He asked, stuffing the papers into his messenger bag.

'Well, I was in White Collar Crimes, but I just received a promotion, and a transfer. I passed my profiling examination with flying colors.'

'So you're going to be in the BAU; what team?'

Michelle smiled, but it was hesitant. 'Spencer, we haven't spoken for the past eleven years, despite incredible friendship at Cal Tech. Why do you think I chose to finally seek you out?'

She had been assigned to his team; it was in her hesitance, her avoidance of the question, and how she seemed unsure of how he would take the news. And Michelle had every right to me unsure, because Reid hardly knew what to think himself. Michelle had been his closest friend in university, but then she'd just disappeared when she went to Yale. How was he supposed to react to her returning into his life? 'Wow…'

'I know; it's too much.' She was reading him as much as he was reading her. 'I figured it would be better to let you know, and not have a big dramatic reunion on Monday. That's when I'm starting. I just thought I'd let you know.' She started to leave.

'Michelle, do you want to get a coffee? With me?' Reid asked suddenly, surprising even himself. He never asked people to get coffee with him.

Michelle smiled; a true smile this time. 'May as well. It'll be just like old times; when we used to go to the coffee shop after lectures. Remember that?'

As they walked out of the lecture theater, Reid realized there was a lot he'd almost forgotten about Cal Tech, and Michelle. _Especially_ Michelle. Whether it had just been the passage of time, or that he'd subconsciously pushed her to the back of his mind, he didn't know. But now he was going to have to start remembering.

* * *

Getting their drinks, Reid brought them back to the corner table where Michelle sat in the campus Starbucks. 'One Venti red tea, one Grande espresso, and enough sugar to enter hyperglycemia.' He said, sitting across from her.

'You remembered my sugar dependency.' Michelle giggled. 'And I almost forgot your caffeine addiction. I hope I don't have to peel you off the ceiling later.'

'Michelle, when you went to Yale, why didn't you call or write to me?'

Her smile dropped like a marionette with cut strings. 'Spencer, it's a very complicated story; you probably wouldn't understand. In fact, you'd probably be better off thinking I'm just a shallow bitch who forgot everyone. I'm… ashamed, of the truth.'

'Whatever it is, Michelle, I won't judge you.' He assured her. 'I'm in no position to judge anyone.'

'I got shot in a drive-by, right after I arrived on campus. In my right shoulder. And they gave me a lot of pain medication; Morphine mostly, and at one point Tylenol 3s. I became really badly dependant on them, and when my prescriptions ran out, I just started to get it on the street. I hardly did anything but study, and think about my next fix for almost two years Spencer—I was sure you'd all forgotten me by then.'

Michelle looked close to tears, and Reid decided it would be better to say something. 'But you got clean.'

'Yeah, I went to detox after a friend of my died of an overdose. Worst twenty eight days of my life, and absolutely worth it.' She replied with a bitter smile. 'Luckily, I was still a juvenile, so the FBI had no access to those records. For all they know, I'm as straight and narrow as you.'

'I wouldn't say that Michelle.'

Reid unbuttoned his right sleeve, and rolled it up past the elbow. There on his arm, plain as day, were the old track marks he worked hard to hide. The ugly truth that even after Tobias Henkel was dead, he kept injecting Dilaudid into his veins. Reaching out, Michelle gently ran a fingertip over one of the marks.

'You too?' She asked softly.

'I was kidnapped by an Unsub during one of our cases, and he drugged me with Dilaudid cut with a psychedelic. I stole the drugs, and kept using them for months.' He explained. 'I couldn't check into rehab without the FBI knowing. I just had to do it on my own, with my friends.'

Michelle ran a hand through her hair. 'Makes me feel a little better. Everyone in White-Collar was so…admirable. Perfect backgrounds. Please tell me the BAU's different.'

'It is. We all have our histories. And I bet that your old team had histories as well, that you just never knew about. We only learn each others' through cases.'

Nodding, Michelle took a large sip of her tea. 'So on to something a little lighter… how's your mom?'

Lighter? 'I had to place her in a mental facility, when I turned eighteen. But at least there, she's being taken care of.'

'My mom agreed to go into care when I was twenty one.' Michelle replied. Reid remembered that her mother was almost completely quadriplegic, and had refused to go into care after Michelle's dad died when she was fourteen. 'I bet it was tougher on you though.' She was probably right

'Remember when we used to talk about how our lives might turn out?' She asked suddenly. 'Cause I'm pretty sure it wasn't anything like this.'

'We planned to work as engineers together, with NASA.' He reminded her.

'Look at us now!' Michelle laughed. 'Two FBI agents who haven't seen each other for over a decade because of some stupid drugs!'

The light on her face was a reddish gold; the sun was setting, and it was time to get going. Once again, Reid was reminded of something from Cal Tech. That more often than not, they'd hung out together long after the sun had gone down. Because they were young, and brilliant, and didn't have to worry about the world. But those times were gone; they had to go home.

'I guess I'll see you at work on Monday.' He said, rising to go.

'It's a Friday night, and you're not willing to stay out past ten?' Michelle asked in amazement.

'At the BAU, we have to sleep when we can, in case we're called on a case.'

She sighed, but got up too. 'I guess things are going to change for me. The only question left, Spencer, is if we're friends again.'

'I think we can be Michelle.' Reid replied, and Michelle smiled again. And for the first time in a long time, he realized he'd missed her.

* * *

Opening his apartment door, Reid was greeted by the sound of his phone about to go to voicemail. Making a mad dash, he caught it just in time. 'Hello?'

"Hey genius boy." It was Morgan. "How'd the lecture go?"

'No one had any questions in the end. So either it went really well, or everyone slept through the whole thing.'

"Nobody in that entire lecture hall had any questions?"

Well, that wasn't entirely true; Michelle had asked a question, but that would mean explaining everything to Morgan. And Reid wasn't sure if he was ready for that just yet. He wanted one more weekend to process the whole situation. To get used to the idea that he had his old best friend back. 'Nope. The professor went home early, so not even she had any questions.'

"She?" Morgan had taken the bait; the best way to distract him was to mention a woman. "How old is she? Is she hot?"

'Morgan, she's almost twice as old as I am; old enough to be my mother.'

"Oh. I should've guessed. I mean, she's a professor! Though you could be a professor; you have the credentials. But you don't have the charisma… or the public speaking skills."

'Thanks for the self-esteem boost.' He replied sarcastically. 'Did I miss anything at the office?'

"Hotch announced that we're getting a new agent. She was with White Collar for the last three years, and they promoted her to BAU."

'Does she have a name?' Reid asked, hoping that he didn't sound like he knew anything.

"Can't remember her name; just that she's like this Psychology whizz and has four doctorates." Morgan laughed. 'Looks like we're gonna have a Genius Girl. Hey, what are the chances she's hot?"

100%, Reid thought, then wondered when he'd started thinking Michelle was hot again. He'd thought of her that way… when they were fourteen. 'Morgan, for all you know, she's Hotch's age.'

"She has four doctorates Reid. She has to be a genius, and you know better than anyone the Bureau likes to hire their geniuses young."

'Multiple doctorates does not mean she's a genius.'

"Sure it does." He laughed. "Look at you, and…" He didn't even know more geniuses than his friend. "ANYWAYS, Garcia remembers hearing the name at Cal Tech, before she dropped out. Do you remember?"

'Well, I don't know the name of the person you're asking if I've heard of, and Cal Tech may be a small campus, but it's still big. I probably wouldn't have even known she existed.' That was a lie; he and Michelle had found each other very quickly. Geniuses needed to have friends too, and she'd been his best friend. Closer than a sister. 'Did I miss anything else?'

"Just Strauss blowing another fuse when she found Garcia and Kevin holed up in her office, having a Tetris battle. And then really losing it when she learned they'd started this after trying to access the new girl's file. Apparently it's under extra security because it's White Collar, but Garcia thinks she's got something to hide."

In other words, he'd missed nothing but another boring Friday at the office. 'That's great Morgan. I'm gonna go sleep through the entire weekend, unless JJ gets an Amber Alert case.' Reid yawned, and hung up. Sometimes, Derek Morgan talked too much.

* * *

_Not sure when I can post again; going to Minneapolis for the weekend. Music in the Parks. Gotta love it._


	2. Chapter 2

_Two chapters on the first day. Now here's hoping people will read!_

* * *

Stepping into the elevator the next morning, Reid was almost disappointed that it was Emily, rather than Michelle who'd held the door. 'Morning Emily.'

'Hey Reid, how was the lecture?' She asked groggily. Reid assumed she'd had a late night, or no coffee yet.

'It went as good as expected.' He replied, still unsure of what the students had thought. He'd have to ask the professor for feedback. 'I heard from Morgan we have a new team member.'

'Yeah, some psychologist—Dr. Soraley from White Collar. Hotch says she's a good profiler, and she's specialized in criminal psychology. We'll see how she does in the field.'

Reid had a hard time suppressing a smile of amusement. He'd decided to make it a surprise for both his boss, and his team that he already knew Michelle. Somehow, knowing something others didn't was oddly amusing. Particularly when you didn't learn it from a book.

'How come you never earned your PhD in psychology.' Emily asked suddenly. 'I know you have a BA.'

'I don't know; I guess I never had the motivation to pursue it. I earned my other doctorates before I came to the BAU, so I suppose it was just that I began to let academics go to the wayside a bit.' Or maybe he didn't feel the need to prove his worth that way anymore.

The ding of the elevator interrupted his thoughts, and Reid followed Emily through the bullpen and into the conference room. The rest of the team had already gathered there, including Michelle. She was having an enthusiastic conversation with Rossi, and Hotch had to tap her shoulder to bring her attention to their arrival.

'Michelle, there are Special Agents Emily Prentiss and Dr. Spencer Reid. Emily, Reid, this is Special Agent Dr. Michelle Soraley.'

Michelle shook Emily's hand formally, and then surprised them all by hugging Reid. 'Good to see you again Spencer.'

Hotch was flabbergasted. 'You know each other?'

'Michelle and I went to Cal Tech together.' He explained, going slightly red. 'Though we hadn't seen each other for years until Friday.'

'I attended Spencer's lecture at the university. Thought I ought to warn my old friend I was back.' She added, and grinned at Reid, who went slightly redder.'

The rest of the team still seemed slightly mystified. They had probably never expected to meet a friend of his from before the BAU. And Michelle had outdone herself on the surprise factor; she did love to make a statement.

'JJ, can we get to the briefing?' Hotch asked, sitting down.

'Right; the briefing.' JJ said absently as she powered up the projection system. ' Six murders in Fargo, North Dakota in the past two months. Amanda Sanders two months ago, Chelsea Flack six weeks, Irina Bulmer five weeks. Then Cassandra Hart three weeks ago, Allison Crossman last week, and Mackenzie Nelson was found last night. All six victims were Caucasian, sixteen year old girls in the same grade, at the same high school. Six friends.'

Six school photos of beautiful, smiling girls were replaced with six crime scene photos. 'They were found in different parks in the area with multiple stab wounds to the torso. We're talking fifteen to twenty stabs. Times of death ranged from eleven pm to two in the morning, and there were no signs of sexual trauma, though two did have sexual activity shortly before death.'

'A hate crime?' Morgan asked skeptically. 'Who can hate teenage girls that badly?'

'Teenage girls can be vicious with one another—this could be a revenge crime against bullies.' Michelle stated thoughtfully. 'Any mention of other close friends?'

JJ looked at her notes. 'Three others; no names mentioned. Why?'

'They're probably the next targets.' Reid said simply. 'And it doesn't look like our Unsub is either evolving or devolving.'

'It could also be that he's working his way up to an ultimate target; one of those three others. This could be a dangerous stalker case, and it might be anyone they come into contact with regularly, even a teacher or classmate.' Rossi added. 'If that's the case, their friends may be our best link to finding the Unsub.'

Hotch nodded in agreement. 'JJ, can you get us set up in Fargo? I want us ready to leave in two hours max.'

She nodded, and they all dispersed to get various things, and make various calls. Reid was glad at times like this that he had no pets, and no family at home. It made it so much easier to get called away on a moment's notice.

* * *

Michelle was cramming her laptop into her bursting tote bag as Reid made his way over to her new desk. She also had a large duffle bag at her feet. 'Bring enough stuff?' He asked jokingly.

'Everything I could possibly need for the next few days is either in my bag, or this purse.' She said as she fastened the tote clasp with some satisfaction. 'That's including my all-important laptop.'

'And the reason why you need it is…'

'I'm very attached to it, and like to have knowledge at my fingertips.'

Reid looked around quickly. 'Don't let Garcia hear you say that; she's our "Tech Goddess" and she's very protective of that roll.'

Michelle rolled her eyes. 'Well, I still need to keep up with my writing. I've published enough articles on criminal psychology to write a book; so I am.'

'You are?' He asked in surprise. Michelle had always been great at writing papers and articles, but a book?

'Why not? I want to make my field more accessible to the public, and they say I have a knack for layman's terms. More and more people are becoming interested in crime and criminals. My publisher agrees that I stand to have a very successful book. Even if it feels as if I'm selling out.' Reid's confusion must have been apparent, for she explained. 'Making good money with my ability.'

'I do everyone's taxes for coffee.'

'Not the same Spencer. You really need to see RENT someday.'

Michelle resumed packing away paperwork, and Reid watched her thoughtfully. It felt so odd, to have her back; too see her face and hear her voice after so long. 'Michelle, are we going to go back to the way we were?' He asked.

'Not exactly, Spencer.' She replied, looking straight at him with her aqua eyes. 'We're not teenagers anymore, and we're not the same people we were either. I mean, look at what we've been through! But I think we can do friends; I know I can do friends. I want to make friends here anyways.'

'Of course you will Genius Girl.' Morgan said, coming over to where they were standing. 'And more if you want.' He couldn't seem to help but add.

'_Genius Girl?_' Michelle asked, and Reid recognized the flare in her eyes that he'd seen directed at many a drunken college guy. 'When did you get license to give me a nickname Morgan?'

'Whoa, easy tiger. It's just my thing. Reid's Genius Boy anyways; so I can't exactly call you both Genius.'

'At least he didn't call you Baby Girl.' Reid added quickly. 'Garcia would kill you both.'

Michelle looked Morgan up and down, and upon seeing he wasn't looking to hit on her, let slip a bit of a grin. 'Alright, the nickname can stay. But if I catch you calling me Doc, the deal's off.'

Morgan grinned and picked up her bag. 'Well, I may as well carry my Genius Girl's bag; this thing weighs—'

Before he could finish his thought, Michelle had snatched the bag from his hand. 'It weighs a ton, I know. I know because I carried it all the way to work this morning, so I think I can carry it out to the jet, don't you?' She said, before walking away from both of them, her tote over one shoulder, and the duffle bag in hand. Morgan was watching after her in disbelief.

'Was she always like that?' He asked weakly.

'Michelle doesn't like being treated differently because she's a woman. But the fact that she didn't hit you is a good sign.' Reid assured him. Truth be told, Michelle hadn't changed a bit. She still disdained the alpha males who showed off too much, just like Morgan. 'Treat her the same way you treat Emily, and you'll be fine.' He added.

* * *

Michelle felt slightly apprehensive as the BAU jet took off from Quantico, Virginia. It wasn't that she didn't like flying, flying just didn't seem to like her lately; the increased pressure in her head made her feel sicker than it had before she'd moved to New Haven, and indulged in it's quiet illicit drug world.

'Are you alright?' Reid asked. He'd taken the seat beside her, and now squeezed her hand slightly.

'I'll be fine once homeostasis kicks in, and my internal pressure evens out.' She assured him. 'I guess I need to get used to flying again, just like I need to get used to this.' She gestured to the crime scene photos in front of her.

'You never get used to it. You can only compartmentalize until it's a better time for you to be emotional about it.'

'Is it hard sometimes?'

'Yeah.' He admitted. 'And sometimes we don't always succeed. There was one case, for me especially, where a teenager was getting revenge on some school bullies. I'll never forget thinking that I knew where Owen Savage was coming from.'

She didn't want that; didn't want to ever relate to the Unsub, because that meant she could be like them. Michelle knew that by delving into the minds of these psychopaths and psychotics, she was exposing her soul to their poison. But at the same time, something about them drew her in with morbid fascination. She wanted to know what made them tick, and what caused them to take things from others, whether it was money, or lives.

'Has anyone from the BAU ever…turned into—?'

Reid seemed to get her question. 'No; none of our agents have become Unsubs.' He assured her, then sensing she needed time to think about that, he got up to ask JJ something. That was the moment that Emily chose to move in.

'So Michelle…what was really up with you and Reid?'

The question snapped Michelle out of her dark mood. 'What?!' She asked incredulously. 'You think Spencer and I—' Pausing to think about it, she laughed dryly. 'We were only ever friends Emily. Best friends for sure, but never anything more.'

'Okay, okay.' Emily grinned. 'Just asking. None of us ever heard about Reid's university years, except that he went to Cal Tech, and earned three PhDs. I don't think he ever mentioned friends from Cal Tech, only a friend from Vegas; Ethan.'

'Spencer isn't exactly an open book, and I think I hurt him by running off to Yale. We didn't have too many other friends in California either, and most of them were more my friends than his. I mean, I was the outgoing one, and Spencer…'

'Is the stereotype of the brilliant young genius, who doesn't do people?'

Michelle nodded, grinning. Emily seemed to be a bit like her. They'd probably get along pretty well. 'I found out that I don't do so well with people either, once I got to Yale. The students didn't respond well to me; I got into a lot of fights with classmates, and one of them accused me of being a crack-head to the administration.'

Emily frowned. 'How could they even think that?'

'I have to tell you, Spencer and I are really, really alike.' She replied, and Emily seemed to understand.

'He told you?'

'Yeah, and he knows about me. So now three people know my crazy little secret. I had to hide it from Yale, and from the Bureau. Luckily, there's no paper trail. I made the cash under the table, and street morphine doesn't exactly come with GST.'

Michelle was looking down at her lap as she said this, and was surprised to feel Emily's hand on her shoulder. 'We all have our secrets Michelle. Every person here. The team's your family now, they won't reject you, or rat you out; ever.'

She nodded. 'I've gotta say, when Spencer told me about the Dilaudid, I wasn't so surprised as I might've been. With his childhood how it was, and his mom… if anyone needed to forget, it would be Spencer.'

'What about you?'

Michelle didn't know what to tell Emily. She'd had an alright childhood, despite her dad's death, and her mom's bike accident. They'd loved her, and taken care of her as much as possible. Her dad had left, yes, but he hadn't walked away from his family; cancer had dragged him away over a course of four months. And yes, her mom hadn't been able to take care of her in a physical sense, but she'd been there in the emotional sense. Overall, she couldn't blame addiction on her childhood.

School had also been a little easier for her; she had gone to private school, and escaped the tortures of the public school system. No brutal bullies, decent friends. Until Yale, where she was shunned by the big-time senior class. No, she hadn't been Ivy League in her attitude, and that was what irked them. Not to mention she'd been shot in a drive-by, which meant she had to be involved in gangs or crime or drugs. So maybe that was it.

'I was the Ivy League loner, because I wasn't Ivy League enough. I don't know if that was the stressor or not, I just know I probably would have done better on the west coast. I should have listened to Spencer when he wanted me to stay.'

* * *

_This is my first attempt at a case. Please tell me what's going through your mind. All constructive feedback welcome._


	3. Chapter 3

Reid was glad when they finally deplaned, and stepped out into the sunlight. That was until a strong north wind came whipping across the private, open airfield. It was mid-spring, and he knew that there was still ice on some of Canada's lakes, and even snow on the ground; they'd been hit with a blizzard only a week ago. So it seemed their northern neighbor was more than willing to share its icy wind.

Beside him, Michelle was shivering like crazy. 'At least it's not a blizzard.' She was mumbling to herself. Reid knew that, like him, she hated cold weather. He was from dry, dusty Vegas, and Michelle had grown up in Phoenix, Arizona.

'The SUVs will be here soon.' JJ promised, hanging up her phone. 'They had a bit of a delay.'

Sure enough, they pulled up five minutes later, and the cold Agents immediately climbed in: Hotch, Morgan and JJ in one vehicle; Reid, Michelle, Emily and Rossi in the other. They drove in silence to the precinct, where Detective Thomas Harper was waiting for them.

'Thank you folks for coming.' He said solemnly after introductions had been made. 'We've done about as much as we can, and the brass decided it was time to call in the feds. We've got a conference room for you and everything, just as Agent Jareau requested. '

Hotch nodded. 'JJ, could you, Rossi and Michelle set up in the conference room? I'd like the rest of us to speak with the remaining friends of the girls.'

'I thought you might,' Harper said grimly. 'They're already waiting for you.'

Reid was a little puzzled. He was usually asked to start a geographical profile off the top, or at least set up their space. Why did Hotch want him to interview teenage girls? He was the exact opposite of a teenage girl!

'I think Hotch wants to get me out of my comfort zone.' Michelle whispered to him. 'That zone being with you.'

He didn't have time to respond before they were being lead into a waiting room where three teenagers sat. They were red-eyed, and obviously devastated. But what Reid hadn't expected was that one was a slight young man with dark features. That particular detail hadn't been included in the case file.

'Agents, these are Robert, Corrine, and Heather.'

'I'm SSA Hotchner, and these are Special Agents Prentiss, Morgan, and Dr. Reid.' Hotch introduced them, and shook each youth's hand. 'We're very sorry for your loss. But we have a few questions to ask.'

The overly made-up blond, Corrine, sighed wearily. 'What do you need to know?'

'Did your friends have any common enemies? People who might want to hurt them?'

'No, never.' Heather said firmly, here deep brown eyes flashing. 'We told the Detective, and we'll tell you too; no one would ever want to hurt our friends.'

Robert shook his head. 'Someone might want to hurt me through you guys. If this is because of me…'

'Rob, it's not you.' She said fiercely. 'None of those straight morons who are always hassling you would ever have the brains to pull this off. It's got to be something else.'

Heather seemed to be the natural-born leader; being strong for the other two. Corrine didn't have the energy to be strong, and Robert was obviously a follower. Reid noticed that Heather was also the one who seemed to be the least absorbed in her grief. 'Who was the ringleader of the group?' Morgan asked.

'Chelsea.' Heather answered matter-of-factly. This surprised Reid. 'She was the queen bee, and then it was 'Mandy, Irina, and Cass. Then the rest of them, and then me.'

Reid was surprised. 'You place yourself in another category?'

'I'm not really a "get in with the crowd" sort of person.'

'You're still a part of us.' Corrine assured her quietly.

'Were you the last people to see them alive?' Emily asked. 'It says in our file you were at parties.'

'Well, we're probably it then, aside from their killer.' Heather replied solemnly. 'But I don't remember seeing any of them leave.'

'Had they been drinking?'

'Everyone was drinking. That was the point of the parties. Seems like everyone's parents are away right now, because of work or whatever else. So we all were a little stupid. Maybe that's what got them in the end.' She said, and Reid was sure he'd never seen a darker expression on a teenage girl's face.

* * *

Michelle stared at the map of the neighborhood from her seat at the table. 'What if,' She began, tilting back in the chair. 'What if this is just like Rossi suggested; a dangerous stalker case?'

Reid, who was standing next to where she sat frowned. 'You think it's possible he's eliminating all people he sees as coming between them and his target?'

'It's possible. Which one struck you as the type who might have a stalker?'

'Heather. She's charismatic, and certainly attracts attention.' Looking up at him, Michelle raised one eyebrow questioningly, and watched her friend turn a brilliant crimson. 'Not that sort of attention, and certainly not from me. She's over a decade younger, and I'm certainly not one to notice—'

'Spence, she's messing with you.' JJ giggled from where she sat reading reports.

'Hey, how come JJ gets to call you Spence?'Michelle asked. She'd tried that shortly after they first met, but Reid had asked her not to.

'It's a habit JJ cannot seem to break.' He admitted. 'She's the only person I know who calls me Spence.'

'Not anymore.' Michelle grinned. 'I'm not letting JJ get an exclusive nickname for you. Unless you two—'

Reid turned even redder than before. 'JJ and Will have a son.' He muttered, and both girls laughed.

'Will popped the question a couple of weeks ago, but I refuse to wear that beautiful a ring in the field.' JJ explained. 'Spence is Henry's godfather.'

'Aww…' Michelle was thinking of how cute that must be, to see Reid holding his godson, when her phone began to ring. 'Agent Soraley.' She answered crisply, in case it was someone from Quantico.

"Michelle sweetie, where are you? I called your office, and someone said you'd gone out into the field on a case." It was her mother.

'Mom, I'm in North Dakota. We have six bodies out here.'

"Oh, so I take it you aren't so thrilled with the job then?"

'I like it a lot Mom. I'm working with Spencer. It's good, but I'm in the middle of a case. Can I call you back later?'

"You know where you can always find me." Her mother said, and they hung up. Looking over at JJ, she saw that Emily had joined them, and they both were grinning.

'Your mom?' Emily asked in near-disbelief.

'Yes, my mom called me on my first day of work in a new assignment. Which is big for her, because she can't even hold a phone herself.' She replied a little defensively. 'And it's not like I write to her every day.'

'No, that's Reid.' JJ agreed. 'But I'd like to think that Henry will call me every once in awhile when he's out of the house.'

'Though he isn't even out of diapers yet.' Emily grinned. 'Michelle, you are going to fall in love when you meet Henry.'

Michelle shook her head. 'I'm actually not very good with kids. My mom used to call it the genius effect—seeing as the other genius we knew had the same problem.'

She was looking at Reid as she said it, but he seemed utterly oblivious to the conversation that was going on around him. He was just staring at the map, with all its pushpins; red for crime scenes, blue for the victims' homes, yellow for where they'd last been seen, and green for their school. Reid had such a look of concentration on his face, she could just imagine how quickly his mind was working; superimposing areas over one another to find a sort of common denominator.

'Spence, what are you thinking?'

Before he could reply, Hotch and Rossi walked in. 'What do we have?' Rossi asked, looking at the map.

'The parks where the homicides occurred are not correlated to the victims homes or school, but are all within five blocks of where they were last seen.' Reid rattled off. 'They are all different sorts of parks; memorial, playground, decorative, and of different sizes. I believe they have no meaning to the Unsub, other than being secluded and quiet in the middle of the night.'

Hotch seemed to be only half listening. He was looking at photographs of the parks, and the victims. 'What were they doing there so late? And why were they alone?'

Michelle didn't know if he was asking himself, but decided to answer anyways. 'They had been partying, they were drunk, and they trusted whoever they left with. Teenagers think they're invincible, and then they end up dead.'

* * *

The team of profilers faced the detectives, and officers. They had discussed and conferred for hours with one another, and were ready to give a tentative profile. Michelle wasn't thoroughly satisfied with it, but it was a place to start. However, they had already run it past Heather, Corrine, and Robert. They hadn't thought of a single person matching the description.

'The person you are looking for is a white male, ages 15-20, associated with the victims' neighborhood.' Hotch began. 'He may be a student, a staff member at the school, or even a neighbor. At this time, a student is much more likely.'

'He picks teenage girls of the same group of friends. This could be a coincidence, or the link between them.' Rossi continued. 'It may be that the Unsub is working his way up to his main target; one of the three remaining friends. He may or may not murder Robert, we can't be sure.'

'The Unsub is very anger motivated and personal; his aggressive overkill of the girls shows us this.' Morgan added. 'There is no sexual activity that has been found at the crime scenes, so it's possible he has enough control to take pictures or simply use his memory to relive the moment later for sexual release.'

'His waiting for the girls to be intoxicated to gain their trust shows that our killer has little to no self-confidence. He will be shy and socially awkward, especially around women. He will also be quite unremarkable among his peers; none of the remaining friends were able to think of a particular person when we gave them this profile.' Reid concluded. Michelle couldn't help but think of the irony that he had probably just described himself, aside from the unremarkable part. He was especially remarkable.

'Should we hold a press conference?' Harper asked, as they all got up, and Hotch started moving towards the door. I was late, and they wanted to get some sleep.

'No, it will be pointless. And there's also the chance our killer could go into hiding on us, if he thinks we're on to him.' Hotch said firmly. You're better off patrolling the area tonight. In case those three decide to party tonight. I can't imagine why they'd want to though, with a killer loose. But teenagers will do things you'd never imagine.'

**

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**Hopefully, the next chapter will be up soon! Please leave your oppinions with me. I live for feedback.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: See Chapter 1  
I also do not own the lyrics featured in this chapter. I actually sing this in the shower myself.**

* * *

The first thing Michelle noticed when they opened up what would be Hotch and Rossi's hotel room, was the door to the right, next to the bathroom door.

'JJ, did you manage to get us adjacent rooms?' Emily asked in amazement.

The blond just smiled, and handed key cards to Morgan and Reid. 'You guys are next door, and then there are two rooms next to you, to be split between us girls.'

Michelle knew what was coming next, before Emily even opened her mouth. 'I want to share a room with Michelle.'

'But I wanted to too!' JJ protested, and the two women began, of all things, rock-paper-scissors.

'Umm…does my opinion count for anything?'

They turned to look at Michelle. 'Oh, right.' Emily laughed sheepishly. 'Michelle, what do you want?'

'I want to take the room between yours and the guys' by myself if that's okay.' She said apologetically. JJ and Emily were well-meaning, but they'd known one another for only a day.

'Alright.' JJ handed over the key card and spare. 'But we need to keep our doors open.'

Michelle was fine with that. Stepping back out into the hallway, she went down two doors, and opened up her own room. It was nice; with sandy colored walls, and golden colored furnishings. But none of that took away the "hotel feeling" that permeated hotel rooms across the nation. She'd just set down her overnight bag, when Morgan and Reid came strolling into her room.

'JJ really knows how to pick a hotel.' Morgan grinned, flopping down on her second bed. 'Except Pittsburg. Those rooms were crap.'

'I don't like hotels no matter how nice they look.' Michelle muttered, pulling slacks out of her bag, and hanging them up in the bathroom; they'd steam while she had her shower, if she could get the guys out of her room. 'Have you ever taken a black-light to one of these rooms? More biologicals than a Vegas brothel.'

'Why Vegas?' Reid asked. 'Why choose Vegas for the comparison?'

'Because even though New Orleans is the "Big Easy", Vegas is the prostitute capital of America.'

Morgan laughed. 'Maybe that's why hookers like you Genius; they know you're from Vegas! Unless they've heard you give thousands of dollars to them for nothing.'

'That was once, and she helped me realize that hypnotherapy might help my memory.'

Michelle stared at the two of them. 'Okay, this is really entertaining, but I smell like stale coffee, and a long day of work; I want to get cleaned up, so can you two leave?'

'Absolutely.' Reid said, grabbing Morgan by the arm, and pulling him out of her room. She closed both doors, and waited to hear what Morgan was going to tease Reid with this time.

'_Dude, I almost can't believe she didn't ask you to stay_.'

'_Morgan, we were friends; just friends_.'

Oh that was priceless, Michelle thought. Didn't ask him to stay…

* * *

'So you're going to stand there, look me in the eye, and say that there was absolutely nothing between you and Michelle.'

Reid ignored Morgan, and started to pull things out of his own bag. Maybe he'd take it as a sign to leave it alone, or he might interpret it the other way, and take his silence for "there had been something". There hadn't been though; not really. At least, not mutually. He'd liked her, when they were younger, in the schoolboy crush sort of way. And that had either faded, or he'd learned to ignore it by the time they'd gone their separate ways.

'Genius, are you going to answer me or not?' Morgan pressed.

'Fine; I felt something for Michelle once, but it was almost a decade and a half ago, and then I learned to get over it by watching her date jerk after jerk, and going out with a few girls Michelle introduced me to. Because there was no point in waiting for something that was never going to happen.'

Reid was surprised at the force in his voice. The last time he remembered speaking to someone that way, had been when he'd gone into that interrogation room with his father. The last he'd spoken to a team member that way, he'd been craving his next fix, and Emily had said the wrong thing.

Rossi poked his head out of his and Hotch's room. 'Hey, could you two keep it down? Hotch's on the phone with Jack.'

They both nodded, as their senior teammate closed the door. 'Hey, I'm sorry if she's a touchy subject for you.' Morgan apologized. 'I'll learn to keep my mouth shut someday.'

'It's alright.'

They fell into a strange silence, and then the sound of Michelle's voice could be heard coming through the wall; her bathroom was on their side of her room. "_Once or twice was enough, and it was all in vain, Time starts to pass, before you know it you're frozen…_" Michelle sang in the shower.

'Would you listen to that?' Morgan grinned. 'Genius Girl is a shower singing sensation.'

'She used to be in her school's choirs.' Reid smiled. She'd also used to sing for him, with some persuading.

"_But I don't care what they say, I'm in love with you, They try to pull me away, but they don't know the truth…_"

'I'm trying to decide whether or not this will be good teasing ammunition.'

'I could tell her a number of things about you, to even that playing field. Like the fact that you snore like a chainsaw.' When he thought about it, Michelle had a good amount of ammunition against him.

'Fine.' Morgan shrugged. 'But she'll never hear the end of this.'

'Give her a break; she's just joined the team, and already you want to make her your little sister. Have you ever thought that maybe she needs some time to get to know you guys better?'

'Michelle seems fine with it.'

'No offence Morgan, but you don't really know her.'

Reid wasn't sure what was irritating him so badly about this whole thing. It just seemed to strange to watch Michelle becoming part of the team so easily, when he'd had to work so hard to gain their respect, and their friendship. He was a little jealous. That was the only logical explanation. He was actually jealous of Michelle, for the first time in the fifteen years he'd known her.

'I don't know what's bugging you man,' Morgan said carefully. 'But I think it's between you and her. You need to work that out between you sooner rather than later.' He was right. 'Now, tell me something about you guys at Cal Tech.'

'Michelle used to sneak out of her dorm room, and into mine, and sleep on my floor.' He told Morgan, surprising himself. 'The first month or so, it was so that no one would come in and "prank the freshman kid". But after awhile, she just did it out of habit. That was when we'd talk about things. Important stuff like papers and studies, and the less important stuff like my mom, and her idiot dates.'

Morgan was looking at him with a mixture of surprise, and understanding. 'I wish I'd had friends as good as that in college.'

'I didn't understand why she wanted to go to Yale, when we were sixteen. I think that was our only genuine fight, when she told me she was leaving Cal Tech. But I understood it after she was gone. That's when I realized that Michelle wanted to know she could make it on her own.'

'Exactly.' Michelle said, opening the door between their rooms. 'Turns out, I can't. I get shot when left on my own.'

Morgan's eyebrows shot up in shock. 'You've been shot?'

'Four times. I've actually been in two drive-bys, three random "guy walks into a place and opens fire" situations, and once, my gun went off unexpectedly, and shot me in the foot. It was never serious wounds; my supervisor in WCC liked to joke that I'm a lead magnet.'

'The probability of being involved in gunfire so many separate times is—'

'Ridiculous.' She finished for him. 'I know. But I tend to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. My insurance is through the roof because of it.'

'So's Genius Boy's. He keeps getting in explosions, shootings, and being kidnapped.'

Reid gave his friends a glare. 'It's not something to joke about. I died for a few minutes when I was taken by Tobias Henkel.'

Michelle frowned. 'You didn't tell me about that Spence!'

'I didn't think you'd want to know.' He admitted, and found himself on the receiving end of a familiar glare. 'I wasn't sure I wanted you to know.' He tried again. The truth was, he hadn't thought to tell her.

'I guess we have to get used to telling each other things again.'

* * *

It was nearly two in the morning, and Reid still couldn't sleep. Across the room, Morgan was snoring as loudly as ever, but that wasn't what was keeping him awake. Neither was it the light coming in under the door to Michelle's room. He wasn't sure what it was that was bothering him; whether it was the case, or some other, disconnected thing. Maybe Michelle would know—she was the psychologist.

'Michelle, are you still awake?' He asked, opening the door. She was sitting up in bed, watching a movie with the volume off.

'Yeah, I was trying to see how many lines in _The Silence of the Lambs_ I could

remember.' She said, turning the TV off. 'Can't sleep Spence?'

'No, I guess I can't.'

Michelle smiled, a wane, tired smile he'd seen millions of times at Quantico, on agents who slept too little, and worked too hard. 'Want to talk about it?' She asked. 'Go ahead and sit down on the other bed.'

Reid sat stiffly, and Michelle leaned back against her headboard, cross-legged. She was the relaxed one, as always. Oblivious to her affect on other people, even him. Even with shadows under her eyes, oversized sweats, and a tee-shirt she'd owned since they'd met, Michelle was striking. And she had a way of drawing things out of you.

'Did the profile seem right to you?' He asked. 'Because I feel as if there's something wrong, and I'm not sure what it is, and it's festering at my mind.'

'Okay.' She said, nodding slightly. 'Then we go over everything in the profile, bit by bit. I guess we'll start with whether or not it's psychotic or sociopathic behaviour.'

'Sociopathic, but immature. Most young killers are less sophisticated in their MO simply because they are still discovering who they really are.'

'Is the Unsub a sexual sadist?'

Reid frowned. 'At first it seems that way, because stabbings can be seen as substitution for penile penetration. But the girls are left fully dressed, and the first stab—' They'd overlooked that the first stab was to the back.

'Backstabbing is something I remember way too well from school.' Michelle said grimly. 'We've been profiling for a male—'

'But a teenage girl is someone they would trust, and if the girls left with one of their best friends...'

This wasn't about sex, or stalking. This was pure, unadulterated rage. Because either Corrine or Heather was pissed off, and this was her revenge. She was a sociopath, and she was mad, and she felt nothing about killing her best friends. 'What is the percentage of female serial killers?' Reid heard Michelle mumble to herself.

'Less than 10%.' Reid answered for her. 'They are extremely rare; we've only come across six in my time with the BAU, and that's over half a decade.'

'We should call Hotch.' She said, reaching for the phone, but he reached out and stopped her hand. 'It can wait until morning Michelle. We're not even sure which girl it is.'

'And what are we supposed to say when he asks why we didn't share this revelation sooner?'

'That it was far too late at night, and it would do no good at two in the morning.'

Michelle smirked at him. 'Are you sure it's because you don't want to explain why you're sitting in my room at two in the morning? Because I'm pretty sure everyone could easily interpret this totally wrong. I mean, the rest of the team might start to get the wrong idea about us.'

Just based on Morgan's teasing, they already had the wrong idea about them. 'I should probably let you get to sleep.' He said, getting up and heading for the door connecting their two rooms. But before he could reach it, Michelle's phone rang.

'Soraley.' She answered, and then seemed to freeze. 'Alright. You and Rossi get out there, I'll wake up the others. Don't bother calling them, just get out there sir.' She hung up.

'Hotch?'

Michelle nodded. 'They found another girl; Corrine. I guess that only leaves Heather then.'

Reid felt guilt rising in his stomach. 'Did Hotch say when—?'

'About midnight, according to the ME.'

She'd been dead two hours by the time they'd figured out the error in the profile. There was no way they could have saved her. 'I'll go wake up Morgan, while you let the girls know what's going on. Do you want me to phone Hotch with our revelation?'

'Yeah.' Michelle said distractedly, pulling clothes out of her bag, and scrubbing a hand through her hair. 'You know what to say to him much better than I do, and you'll get through it quicker.'

Reid was halfway through the door, when Michelle stopped what she was doing, and looked at him meaningfully. 'If we catch Heather, I want in on the interrogation. Even if it's a secondary one; I want to know why.'

He nodded. 'We'll meet you in the lobby.'

**

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So? What do you think is the motive? R&R


	5. Chapter 5

**So, a double update tonight. The next one may be a little while though.**

* * *

Arriving at the park, Michelle stared down at the pool of blood still soaking into the gravel of the park swings. Corrine's body had been removed before they'd gotten there, but yellow tags littered the crime scene, and blood was everywhere. Heather had been a little less frenzied, or so the ME told them. There had only been six stab wounds; one hitting the aorta, and killing Corrine quickly. Michelle could imagine that Heather had wanted it to be quick.

'The local PD are looking for Heather as we speak.' Rossi said solemnly. Everyone had been updated that she was the Unsub. 'We're worried she might have decided to end it quick, and finish off Robert too tonight.'

'She won't.' Reid said quietly. 'Robert respected Heather, I could see it in the interview we had with them. Heather's a sociopath, who wanted the girls to respect her and her intelligence. That's the only logical reason she had to do this. They angered her, with ignorance.'

Michelle felt sick listening to this. How many times had she herself hated someone for their stupidity, and feeling of superiority over her. She'd felt it from teachers, professors, and superiors in the FBI. And so many times, she'd wanted to take them down a peg or two...

'Michelle?' JJ was right in front of her, and she hadn't noticed. 'Are you okay?'

'Yeah. It's just... a little too close to home.'

JJ didn't seem impressed with that answer, but she nodded. 'If you want to talk about it, I know Emily, Reid and I are ready to listen.'

She was saved having to respond by Hotch's cell going off. 'Hotchner.' He answered sharply, and then nodding a few times, hung up. 'They found Heather; she was wandering around near her house. She's at the station, and Harper's waiting for us to begin the interrogation.'

'Did she say anything?' Morgan asked.

'She said she would like to talk to a forensic psychologist and Reid after the interrogation.' He replied, looking at Michelle. 'We can get someone else in—'

'No.' Michelle protested. 'I want to know why—why she chose to kill, and why she chose this particular method.'

Hotch frowned but nodded. 'Then let's go to the station. We may as well get this done with now.'

They climbed into the SUVs; Emily, JJ and Morgan in one, Hotch, Rossi, Reid and Michelle in the other. As Hotch pulled away from the park, Rossi turned to look back at the younger agents. 'Reid, you know what to do and not do. Michelle—'

'I was trained firstly as a criminal psychologist. I know how to conduct an interview like this; no personal information, no obvious emotional response, and no antagonizing the subject in any way. I know what I'm doing.'

'Then you should know that you may not get the answers you're looking for, or you may not like the ones you get.'

Michelle nodded. 'I know.'

Staring out the window at the streets passing by under a cloudy sky, Michelle knew she ought to feel something. Even excitement or dread. Not this cold, determined void. Unless that was her mind's way of masking it's fear of what she was going to hear coming from Heather. The cold, hard truth.

Feeling a warm pressure on her hand, she realized Reid had taken a hold of it. He was trying to reassure her without words. As she had reassured him so many times as teenagers. The way she'd tried to reassure him she'd be back, right before she stepped through the boarding gate when she left for Yale. And then she'd failed to follow up on that reassurance.

* * *

Entering the interrogation room, Michelle felt a shiver run through her. Whether it was excitement, or fear, it didn't matter. She'd realized during the car ride to the station, that all that mattered was doing her job, like she'd always done. And this was one more sociopath to interview; one more to, if not understand, come a little closer to understanding.

'Dr. Reid, you decided to come.' Heather said evenly. 'And I suppose this is the psychologist?'

'Yes, I'm Special Agent Dr. Soraley.'

The teenager smiled. 'Good. I like to have my requests honoured. I was particularly intrigued by Dr. Reid. I have a lot of respect for young professionals, and intelligence. I like to know my mind, and I realized, when I was arrested, I had questions about my own behaviour.'

'You don't know why you killed them?' Michelle asked.

'No, that I'm sure on. They were a bunch of silly girls, with no goals, no brains, and no respect for anyone. Self-absorbed; Chelsea was a classic narcissist, and she thought she could rule the world through brand names and a pretty face. They all thought I was disposable; the person who would be a crying shoulder, and tell them they were wonderful, then send them on their way to ignore me.'

Heather's tone was always this steady calm. Emotionless, and almost expressionless. She knew she didn't need to hide behind a charming exterior; they knew what she was.

'So what is it that you don't understand about what you did.' Reid pressed.

'I want to know why I chose a knife, of all things. Knives are generally used by males, and stabbing them was so...messy.' Heather frowned. 'I could have been so much more efficient.'

'Did you consider strangling?'

'I did, and then I saw the butcher block in the kitchen. I guess there's this...romanticism of killing with a knife. The blood and mess...that was partially due to how I just couldn't seem to stop—'

Michelle was mesmerized by the thoughtful look in her eyes as she said this. She was totally disconnected from the idea that she had brutally slain seven young women. 'Your parents didn't notice you coming home with blood on your clothes?'

'My parents are away so much...Mom's an obvious sociopath; she only cares about money, and how much more she can make by working more and more hours. And as for Dad...' She frowned again. 'He does what it takes to keep Mom happy, and then goes to spend his nights with someone who is capable of actually loving.'

'You don't care about your father's infidelity?' Reid asked.

'Why should I? I get both parents out of the house, and his guilt means greater freedoms.' Heather paused, and then smiled. 'And we all want our freedoms. Even if it's only for a short while, don't we Dr. Reid? Even if it's just a short high...' And as she smiled wider, Reid got up and calmly left the room.

* * *

'Spence, are you okay?'

Reid was standing outside the precinct, where Michelle had come to find him. Truth was, he was not okay; it had taken an awful lot of self control to leave as calmly as he had. Heather had figured out his secret, and looking down at his arm, Reid cursed himself for rolling up his sleeves. He'd been careless about hiding the old track-marks, and she'd noticed. Latched on to it, and used it to bait him.

'Hey,' Michelle had grabbed both his shoulders, and was looking up into his face. 'What happened in there, could have just as easily been me.'

'I've been doing this for years...' He muttered angrily to himself. 'I can't believe—'

'Spencer Reid, sometimes things just go wrong, okay? It's happened to me, and it's probably happened to you before too. I've had my very soul questioned by patients I've interviewed. So you need to get over this.'

He'd thought that she would be the one to be targeted in the interview, and he'd be assuring her. But Heather had turned on him instead. 'I think she wanted to put her focus on me.' Reid admitted. 'That's why she asked for me by name. Heather didn't care who else came in with me really; she just asked for a forensic psychologist.'

'It's fine Spence.' She assured him again. 'We're going to get out of Fargo tonight, and just move on to the next case.'

'You're right.' He agreed, and tried to smile.

'Of course I am.' Michelle grinned self-confidently, and Reid was reminded of Garcia. When those two had time together at the office... it could make things very interesting. 'Now let's go back inside so nobody worries you've taken off on us.'

'No, I'd rather stay out here for a minute.'

'Okay.' She said, leading him to a bench that gave the others still inside a clear view of them through the precinct doors. 'So what are you going to do once we get back home? I heard Morgan saying something about taking Emily and Garcia to get hammered, but I doubt that's what you're planning.'

' I'll probably just go home and sleep for as long as I can. Hotch may give us tomorrow off, so I might try to clean my apartment a little bit.' Reid said. He really didn't think too much about what he'd do once the case was over.

'Well, how about once we land, if it's not too late, we go get some food?'

'At like a restaurant?'

'I was thinking more along the lines of McDonalds or KFC myself.' Michelle laughed. 'I'm not the "go to a fancy restaurant" sort of person. Unless someone else is paying. Too many boyfriends have become ex-boyfriends in fancy restaurants.'

Michelle gave a chuckle after this, but it was the same kind of dry chuckle that Rossi tended to give when he mentioned any of his three divorces. The kind that said they were trying to not let it affect them, but it still did. Because they'd been hurt, and rejection like that left its own scars. Ones that, like track marks, never went away completely.

'I'm about ready to head home Spence,' She said more quietly. 'So let's go back in, and then get out of here.'

* * *

Walking back into the BAU later that evening, Michelle couldn't help but yawn, and slump into her desk chair. She was exhausted. Even with sitting on the plane for the last few hours, she was exhausted. 'Travel's a bitch.' She groaned.

'When the BAU first started, we didn't have a private jet.' Rossi chuckled. 'Had to fly commercial, and spend hours next to some fat tourist who smelled either like smoke or cheese.'

'Well that was back in the dinosaur age Rossi.' Morgan reminded him.

'When did you get the jet anyways?'

They all turned to Hotch. '2002.' He told them, and then slipped into his office.

'The FBI received a large package from the Bush government, and they decided to spend the money on the department most visible on a national scale. At the time, that was the BAU.' Reid rattled off, and then realized the only one listening was Michelle. 'They do that a lot.'

'Shame. They could learn something.' She smiled. 'I should have brought my glasses to work. I'm near-sighted when I'm sleep deprived.'

'Do you want me to drive you home?'

Michelle looked at him sceptically. 'You think you can drive my baby?'

He frowned. 'What is it with women and saying that their car is their child. Cars are machines.'

'My car is very special. I had to special order the color; they don't usually make Pontiac Grand Am GTs in ice blue.'

Morgan, who'd been sorting through a mile-high pile on his desk looked up in surprise. 'You drive a Pontiac?'

'Yeah. You thought I'd drive something luxurious and ridiculously overpriced?'

'No, I thought you'd drive something Japanese.'

She frowned but decided it wasn't worth answering. 'Spence, you don't need to drive me home. Besides, you'd have to leave your car overnight.'

'The Volvo's in the shop; I took the subway today. And I thought you wanted to grab some food together.' He reminded her.

She'd forgotten about that plan; maybe she was too tired to drive. 'Right. I guess it's better if someone else drives me, so I don't get in a wreak. So you got another Volvo?'

'No, it's the same one you knew.'

'The one your mom bought in the Stone Age? That thing still runs???'

'Most days.'

JJ shook her head. 'Sometimes.'

'Almost never.' Hotch called from halfway out the BAU doors. Morgan turned to Emily in surprise. 'Did the Drill Sergeant just make a joke?'

'I think so... that's kinda scary.'

'He used to laugh more, when he started this job.' Rossi said quietly.

Michelle wondered if that was part of this job, losing your sense of humour. Maybe someday she'd laugh less, and frown more, and maybe that was when you knew you were a senior profiler. Maybe that was when you should start thinking about retirement.

'Ready to go Michelle?' Reid was asking.

'Yeah. Let's go get some high fat fast food. I'm starving.' She grinned, and followed her friend out the doors.

**

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Somehow, this chapter turned out to be a mix of light and heavy. Did it work?


	6. Chapter 6

**So another chapter where the serious and the silly get a little mixed together. I have to admit, I eat McDonalds this way. I don't eat it nearly as much as Michelle though.**

* * *

Reid watched in fascination as Michelle practically inhaled her burger. They'd chosen to go to the McDonalds near her apartment, and Michelle had ordered a Double Quarter Pounder with cheese. He'd spent a decent amount of time around women—Emily and JJ namely—and he'd never seen anything quite like this. She noticed him watching and frowned. 'What?'

'Nothing; I've just never seen anyone eat like that.'

'I like McDonalds; I admit it. Some people won't even look at a hamburger, because they think it will go straight to their butt. But I think that's ridiculous, and I should eat what I want to. Plus I can't cook worth a damn.' She admitted with a short laugh. 'The store Manager here knows me by name.'

Reid nodded. 'The pizza place down the block from my building knows which apartment, and what order when they see my number on the call display. I probably keep them afloat.'

'You never mastered the art of cooking?'

'No. Gideon...' He stopped. Michelle didn't know about Gideon. Didn't know how he'd picked him out of a crowd of students at Cal Tech, and brought him to Quantico as one of the youngest agents ever to enter the Academy. She didn't know that Gideon had left him behind like his father, with only a note goodbye. 'Special Agent Jason Gideon tried to teach me, but I failed miserably.'

'Gideon was your mentor—you mentioned that when you answered my question at the university. I take it he didn't "just retire", like the rest of us were told.'

'Gideon probably should have retired after we lost those six agents in that bombing. But he came back, and Frank Breitkopf was enough to break him. Gideon left us nothing but his badge, his gun, and a note. We have no idea where he is. Garcia refuses to track him down.'

Michelle let out a sigh. 'I'm sorry Spence. That must have been—like your dad was leaving all over again.'

'It's alright now.' Reid replied, picking away at his fries. 'You get over things like that.'

'Or you stuff it down and pretend it's not there like I know you did with your dad.' She said knowingly. 'I'm a shrink; don't try lying to me Spence. It's like lying to your mother.'

They finished their food, and headed for Michelle's car. It was nearly nine at night, and dark in DC. Michelle had insisted they park on the street, and the only spot they'd found was just over a block away. But the night was nice enough. Reid felt uneasy though, when he noticed a dark SUV with tinted windows. 'Hey Michelle? How's the gang situation around here?'

'There are a few gangs around here. Most of them high-end. The Russian Mob has some activity—'

As she'd spoke, a second SUV came screeching around the corner, and opened fire at the SUV, and them. Reid pulled them both down out of instinct, and felt the heat of a round almost grazing his arm. When the gunfire stopped, and the drive-by over, he looked over to check Michelle was alright.

'Goddamn.' She hissed, clutching her left thigh. A round had hit her in the side of the leg, and she was bleeding fairly heavily. 'Spence, you gotta help put pressure on this.'

Using both hands, he pushed hard against the wound, as Michelle took the strap off her purse, and lashed it around the top of her leg. But she was still losing blood, and was looking pale and groggy. 'Michelle, you have to stay conscious, okay?' He told her, in an effort to keep her focused and awake. Nearby, they could hear the sound of sirens; someone had called 911. Reid felt her blood pulsing, warm under his hands.

'Spence, I've really gotta move out of this neighbourhood.' She giggled, resting back against the concrete, abandoning the tourniquet. The blood loss was affecting her brain. The sirens grew louder just as Reid watched Michelle slip into unconsciousness.

* * *

The harsh lights of the hospital were so much like they had been when Garcia had been shot. Or when they'd been in New York. There were so few good memories associated with hospitals, that Reid always felt a sense of dread walking into one. And the worst was waiting. Especially when a friend had to go under the knife.

He tried to imagine how it had been for Michelle, to be a patient, and know that no one was out there waiting for her. That she was alone in New Haven, and there wasn't a friend to open your eyes to. That had to be worse than the waiting, because rather than the possibility of losing someone, there was no one at all. Given where Michelle had been nearly twelve years ago, Reid knew he'd rather be here, waiting for her doctor.

'Reid?'

Looking up from the magazine he'd been staring at, but not reading, Reid was glad to see Hotch. He'd called him just after Michelle had been rolled into surgery. 'Still no word on her condition.'

'Course not. They won't tell us until she's in post-op.' Hotch said humourlessly. 'I'm surprised you phoned me Reid.'

'I wanted to tell you, so you could let everyone else know, and so you'd know that Michelle won't be coming into work...today.'

He nodded. 'I told everyone. We're taking care of the paperwork, and then everyone is taking the rest of the week off. Of course, Michelle will need a little more time. Probably a month or two.'

'Knowing Michelle, she'll want to roll around the BAU in a wheelchair with a headset on while we're away, so she can do long-distance profiling.' Reid told him, trying to bring a bit of humour into it, and failing.

'So are you going to tell me what happened exactly, beyond "Michelle was shot on the street"?'

'We were coming out of McDonalds, and walking to her car—Michelle had insisted I park it on the street. Park along that block, there was a dark SUV that I knew was a gang vehicle. Michelle didn't seem to concerned by it, and then another one came out of nowhere, and opened fire at the first SUV. We were in the range of fire, and Michelle was hit before we hit the pavement.'

Reid felt all his suppressed guilt coming to the surface. He _should_ have insisted on parking in the parking s_hould_ have avoided being anywhere near that SUV. He _should_ have pulled Michelle down quicker. He _should_— It didn't matter. Should, would, could; they were all retrograde thoughts that had little meaning in the present. He couldn't go back and fix things, any more than he could go back and fix his father leaving, and his mother's illness, and what had happened to Gideon. He couldn't fix it.

'It's not your fault Reid.' Hotch tried to assure him.

'I know it's no one's fault. But that doesn't always make the guilt go away.' He said tensely. 'I still feel guilt over what happened to Elle—I couldn't get her to talk to me, and I didn't try as hard as I should have. And I feel a good amount of guilt over other things. One of the biggest being that I didn't try to go looking for Michelle when she "disappeared". If I had called Yale, I know they would have told me she'd been injured. But that's all in the past, and Michelle's in surgery here in the present.'

Hotch said nothing, just stared at the off-white wall across from them. Why was it every surgical waiting room had off-white walls? Had they never heard that greens or blues or yellows would be more calming? His mother had once said that she was glad her institution didn't have white walls— white walls jut made you feel even crazier than you already felt being there.

'Michelle Soraley?' It was the doctor who'd explained to Reid they were taking her up for emergency surgery hours earlier. The one who'd said that once they got the bleeding stopped, it would be a routine repair to the thigh muscle. And possible reconstruction of the bone, depending on the bullet's penetration.

'Well?' He asked impatiently.

'The surgery was a success; Michelle is fine. She lost more blood than we expected, due to the bullet nicking her femoral artery, but we managed to control the bleeding. She had some extensive deep muscle damage, and so her recovery will not be like the other shots we noticed she had. There were—'

'Four.' Reid finished for him. 'Michelle's been shot four times before now.'

'Right, so Mr. Reid, you'll need to give her a lot of help as she's healing. She won't be able to walk, or stand on her own for at least three weeks. Possibly a month. You'll have to take care of her.'

'That's fine.'

'What about work?' Hotch asked, and to the doctor's quizzical look, her responded. 'I'm her boss.'

'She won't be returning to work for at least a month, maybe two.'

'What sort of medication do you have her on?' Reid asked, the possibility suddenly dawning on him that they might have placed her on Morphine for the pain. If they had—

The doctor looked at a clipboard; Michelle's chart. 'We were notified that she has had some issues with narcotic medication in the past, so we placed her on a less addictive medication; hydromorphone.'

Reid felt the bottom of his stomach drop out; Dilaudid. They'd put her on the drug of his nightmares. The one that had nearly cost him everything. 'What if she wishes not to be given narcotics?'

'Then she will have to make that decision for herself, Mr. Reid. However, I doubt Michelle will want to have her medication switched; this will be a painful recovery. She'll be thankful for our decision in the long run.'

Or she would be an addict. Even though this was pure drug, not cut with a psychedelic like his had been, he knew that there was still a greater risk for addiction that if Michelle had never been a Morphine abuser. But he couldn't do anything about it; this was in Michelle's hands.

'Would you like to see her now?' The doctor asked.

'Yes. Yes, of course.' Reid said, coming out of his thoughts. Maybe he was making a big deal out of nothing. Michelle wasn't a teenager anymore. Her brain could react to the drugs very differently now.

'How did you convince the doctor to give you so much information?' Hotch asked quietly, as they followed him down a maze of hallways. 'The things he told us are usually limited to family members.'

At this, Reid felt a slight twinge of guilt. 'When we first came in, I told them I was Michelle's fiancé.' He admitted, and was astonished to hear Hotch quietly laugh.

* * *

Michelle awoke to the sounds of hospital machinery. Her pulse blipped on a monitor, oxygen hissed through a tube directed into her nose, and an automatic IV beeped every time a clear liquid dripped into her tube. They'd gotten the bullet out, and based on her lack of pain, they weren't pumping antibiotics into her veins. She wondered if a cop had waited outside the OR for that slug, like they had the others. 'My reputation as a lead magnet lives on.' She said dryly.

A movement to her right revealed that Reid was sitting there with her. 'You shouldn't joke about that sort of thing Michelle.' He said groggily. Her words must have woken him up. 'Getting shot is serious.'

'When you've been shot five times, you have to learn to laugh at the irony. I mean, I can get face to face with a sociopath, but then later that same day, I'm shot on the street. It's like I'm invincible, so long as I'm not being a civilian.'

'Michelle, I was worried about you!'

She saw that he certainly had been. He looked tired, and pale, and anxious with waiting. It was the look that she'd seen on too many friend's faces. 'Well, I don't go around asking to be shot. It just happens.'

'Then maybe next time I won't worry about you. I'll assume you'll be fine. And then it will be even more of a shock when you die.' He said angrily. It was the same tone he'd used when they'd fought over her leaving Cal Tech. They'd had terrible fights; not screaming matches, but fights where their words had hurt more than the volume they were said at.

'Maybe next time, you can just assume I'm just being a bitch instead of not calling, and not bother to make sure I even made it to class. It can be New Haven all over again!' Michelle hated that Reid could make her angry and hurtful; she'd never fought with anyone else. And they'd only fought twice when they were younger, but they were month-long fights.

'It can be, except rather than it being Morphine in your veins Michelle, it's Dilaudid.'

She froze. No wonder why he was upset and angry; they were giving her the drug he'd had to battle with. Reid had to be worried that he'd lose her to drugs again, only this time he'd be there to watch it all happen. That he'd watch her throwing away a life she herself had struggled to gain after fighting her own battles. He didn't want to see history repeat itself.

'Spence, it'll be different this time—'

'No, it won't be.' He cut her off. 'Not if you give up on being clean. I know it. People go back out there, thinking it will be different; it's the same.'

'Let me try Spencer.' Michelle said firmly. 'The circumstances, the emotions, the drugs—they're all different. And I'm not a teenager anymore. I have self-control and less need to escape from a reality I don't like. Even if it's only for a month—the worst of it will be over, and I'll be able to take the rest of the pain. I just have to try.'

'You don't need to prove yourself Michelle. You don't need to prove that you're not an addict.'

She knew, but she still had to try. 'All I need is to know someone will support me.'

'Fine.' Reid resigned. 'But I want to watch you closely, to make sure you don't do anything stupid.'

'And how are you going to watch me closely while I'm at home?' She asked teasingly. 'Unless you put cameras covering every inch of my apartment. Which would be creepy.'

'Michelle, you're going to need some help getting around and taking care of yourself.' He reminded her. 'So I'm asking you to come stay with me for at least a month.'

She couldn't do that to him; take up space at his place, let Reid place the burden upon himself—It was ridiculous. 'Spence, I couldn't—'

'It'll give me more incentive to take care of myself.'

'Fine.' Michelle gave in. 'I'll humour you.'

Reid nodded, grinning. 'Good. I'll let Hotch come and talk to you.'

Hotch was here? Hotch, her boss Hotch?!? That was not good. 'You called him, didn't you?'

'Yes. He wants the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So you'll need to tell him everything Michelle.'

She ran a hand through her hair in anxiety, and thought that this was going to take a lot of explaining; from New Haven to now. She wouldn't be surprised if the Bureau fired her.

**

* * *

**

R&R!!! Or i'll seriously give this up, and devote my energy actually studying. Do you want that???


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry. Writer's block and under motivation's a bitch. But here's hoping no one's given up on me.**

* * *

Walking into Reid's apartment, Michelle was struck by the organized chaos everywhere. Every surface, from the dining room table to the window sill was covered in stacks of books, files, and loose papers. The walls were bare beige, a shade or two lighter than the carpet and the furniture was obviously second-hand. The only feature that she could see that had any aura of time spent on it was the shelving unit on the wall across from the couch and two armchairs. This was filled with a modest flat screen, DVD/VCR , movies, and more books than some small towns had in their libraries.

'Sorry for the mess.' Reid apologized as he grabbed her bag, and headed down the short hallway. 'I know, this place is sort of pathetic.'

'Pathetic?' Michelle laughed. 'This is too much like my own place to be called pathetic Spence. Though I don't have near as many books as you do.'

The truth of the matter was, this was the utter stereotype of the workaholic's apartment. She knew there had to be a few hundred just like them in the Virginia-DC area. Bureau employees whose whole lives were to keep order in the country. They were all guilty of this lifestyle crime. Their respective homes not really "homes"—just places to sleep and shower. Home was the office, family was colleagues; life was work.

'Morgan's always telling me to fix it up a bit, but I don't see any reason to. No one sees it other than me and the caretaker.' He said, coming back from what she assumed was the bedroom. He was under the impression she was going to stay in his room, while he slept on the couch; she knew it.

'Spence, I'm good for taking the couch you know.'

'No, what if you fall off in the middle of the night and tear your stitches out? Michelle, you need a proper bed.'

'I refuse to let you give up your own bed for me.' She said firmly. 'So I'm either sleeping on that couch, or you'll literally have a roommate.'

Reid's eyes nearly popped out of his head. 'You want to share the bed?' He squeaked, like he always did when suddenly nervous. You'd have thought he'd never had a woman in his bed before.

'Yes, share. We're both adults here Spence; I'm sure we can keep to ourselves. I'm fine with it, but if it makes you uncomfortable...'

There was a trick to getting Spencer Reid to do what you wanted. You had to present the idea, a good reason why it would work, and then give him the option to say no while trailing off... It had always worked in the past. Michelle couldn't see why it shouldn't now.

'Fine.' He resigned. 'We'll try it. But if there are issues, I'll be the one on the couch.' Some things never changed, Michelle thought, and grinned at her friend. She still had it.

'So,' she said, settling onto the couch, and leaning her crutches up against the wall. 'Where'd you put the kit?' The kit was her supplies for Dilaudid use.

'It's in the bedroom. I remember being knocked right out after shooting it up. But that wasn't pure Dilaudid, and at a greater dose. I wouldn't be able to guess it's effect on you.'

'Euphoria probably. We'll see if I pass out too badly.' Michelle said vaguely, her eyes scanning the file folders on the coffee table before her. There was one particular stack, that were battered, and had the FBI logo on them. 'Bringing cases home Spence?' She asked, grabbing one.

'No, they're copies of old cases I worked with the team.' He explained. 'I like to have them on-hand, when I'm writing criminology articles.'

She flipped open the one in her hand, and saw the face of a young man staring back at her. It wasn't a mug shot, but an army one.

'That was Philip Dowd. He was a Long Distance Serial Killer; a sniper style murderer. He had a history with the army, a dishonourable discharge, and was working as a nurse when he went on his shooting spree in Illinois. When we cornered him in the ER, he had Hotch and I hostage. I didn't have my gun because I'd failed my Firearms Qualification. Hotch went along with Dowd, and managed to convince him to let Hotch kick me, giving me a chance to get his back-up piece. I shot Dowd right in the forehead.'

Reid looked a little sick, even as he told her about it. 'It was my first time shooting someone in the field.' He admitted. 'You never forget your first. And you never forget the ones that are bizarre.'

Grabbing another file, he flipped it open for Michelle to see. Another young man; this one wild-looking, with glasses. It was definitely a mug shot. 'This was Floyd Feylinn. He was a cannibal—there was an entire book of recipes he'd tried with his victims. When they were searching for one of his victims, Tracy Lambert, he fed the volunteers a chilli made with her meat. It was probably one of the most incredible cases of lone cannibalism I've ever come across.'

'He was institutionalized.' Michelle said quietly, pointing to the photograph of Tracy Lambert's books stacked on the toilet seat in the washroom where she was taken. 'The order in the midst of a chaotic mind.'

Reid nodded, and grabbed the next file on the stack. 'This was probably the most important case I ever worked.' He said, showing her the picture of a young kid in black clothes. He'd mentioned this case on the plane to Fargo. 'Owen Savage was a revenge killer. He went on a spree that started with his girlfriend's abusive father, and ended when I convinced him to turn himself in peacefully. He was bullied in a school that couldn't cater to the needs of a brilliant kid with a learning disorder.'

She could hear the frustration and anger in his voice even now; Reid had felt like he was looking at himself in this case—only if he'd gone the other direction. Sometimes the difference between the profiler and the Unsub was a choice, when you looked at their histories. But Reid had too good a heart to be like Owen Savage. That was what really separated them.

* * *

By the time it was nearly ten that night, they'd gone through all the cases in Reid's stack, ate far too much Chinese food, and he could see that Michelle was starting to feel the pain in her leg. She was squirming on the couch slightly, and her hands were trembling when she lifted a photo to the light. Reid knew she was trying to be tough; to push her limits, but there were limits.

'Michelle, I think it's time you had your first dose.' He said reluctantly.

She sighed, and grabbing her crutches, headed for the bedroom faster than her would have expected for a woman with a bullet wound. By the time he got to the door, she was already seated on the bed, the kit open on the night stand. All too skilfully, she was tying on the tourniquet, and finding the vein in her left arm. 'It pisses me off that I still know how to do this.' She muttered.

'Well, sometimes it doesn't take much to fall back into our old habits.' Reid suggested, grabbing a needle and vial. 'How much?'

'One cc. Anything more and I may have to kick your ass with my good leg.'

He debated handing her the needle, and decided that it would be better he injected her himself, than risk her breaking the needle with a shaky hand. 'Ready?' He asked.

'Well, so long as you're ready for whatever I might say. I tend to get a stupid mouth attached to my genius brain when I'm high.' Michelle said wryly. 'So go ahead Spence; give me the good stuff.'

Crouching in front of where she sat, Reid pierced the skin of her inner arm with the needlepoint, and depressed the plunger. Michelle drew in a sharp hissing breath, and let out a quiet moan as she removed the tourniquet, and the drug hit her brain.

'Michelle, are you alright?'

'I'm...great.' She grinned, and let out an affected giggle. So this was what he'd been like, seen from the other side. Only, few people had seen him at this stage. 'Spence, I should never have left you at Cal Tech. I was stupid. You deserved that scholarship to Yale—you were Yale material. I know that was your safety school, but it was a good school. Sometimes, I think you would have done better there. You wouldn't have been out so late, in a bad part of New Haven...'

Reid eased Michelle back into a sleeping position, and pulled the blankets over her. 'Michelle, you can sleep.' He said quietly, crawling in on the other side of the bed. He could change his clothes tomorrow. 'Just sleep painlessly.'

* * *

The clock on the nightstand read ten in the morning, and Michelle was still asleep. Reid had been up an entire hour; he'd showered, changed his clothes, and eaten breakfast. Now he had to wake Michelle up, but he didn't want to. She looked so peaceful, asleep and probably dreaming. But she'd thank him later when she wasn't in pain.

'Michelle, you need to wake up.' He said, shaking her shoulder lightly. Michelle half opened her eyes, and ducked her head under the covers.

'Go away Spence.' She grumbled, definitely not a morning person.

'Fine. You can stay like this until your leg feels like it's about to explode with pain. It's your choice.'

Michelle glared at him, but sat up. 'I hate mornings.' She muttered, wrapping the rubber tourniquet around her upper arm, and tying it tight.

'Get used to early mornings, late nights, and not enough sleep. That's the BAU. On call twenty four hours a day, seven days a week.'

Reid handed her the prepared syringe, and Michelle wasted no time in shooting the drug into her vein. He recapped the needle, and watched Michelle's eyes roll back as she took off the rubber tubing, and the Dilaudid hit her brain.

'I think I'm turning into Mimi, from RENT, and if I'm Mimi, you've gotta be Roger, Spence.' She said with a spacey grin. 'I mean, I'm using, you're no longer, and I think we're both a little worried I'll drag you back down. Except it's Dilaudid, not heroin, and we're not Bohemians in New York.'

Michelle was babbling, and not making an especially great deal of sense to Reid, but then again, he had never seen RENT. He wasn't one to watch musicals on his own. Though Emily had taken him and JJ to go see Sweeney Todd once. A musical about a vengeful serial killer had been too much temptation.

'Do you want to know how I managed to buy street Morphine Spence?' She asked, out of the blue. 'I actually worked as a dancer. Can you believe that? I was a nightclub dancer. At seventeen. It's insane what you'll do when you're high on whatever they added to that Street M.'

'They probably cut it with something cheap, like heroin, or possibly a psychedelic.' He told her, and Michelle leaned back against the headboard.

'All these years, I thought I wasn't a junkie.' She laughed, but it was a dry, bitter sound. 'I've always thought I was higher class than was true.'

'No Michelle.' He said, sitting next to her on the bed. 'That's not true. You know it isn't. If anything, you thought you weren't good enough. Look at the guys you dated.'

'I never deserved someone as good as you Spence...' She said quietly, and moved closer to him, snuggling up against his side. 'You're warm Spence...' She mumbled, before drifting off again.

Reid was wondering how long she'd sleep for when the ringing of the bedside phone startled him. Not wanting it to wake Michelle, he snatched it up quick. 'Hello?'

"Hey, it's JJ. How are you guys doing? Is Michelle alright?"

'She's fine. Asleep right now, but fine. What's up? Do we have a case?'

"No, no." She assured him. "Morgan, Garcia and Emily were just talking about coming to see you guys."

'I don't know if Michelle's really up to visitors.' He replied, glancing down at his sleeping friend. 'She gets knocked out pretty bad by the drugs—'

"Come on Spence, she should be awake by this afternoon, right? We'll bring food, have a bit of fun... and I'll bring Henry."

'Now that's not fair.' Reid half-whined. 'You know I can't resist seeing Henry.'

"Exactly." JJ giggled. "And it's not good for you two to be cooped up together for too long. People need to socialize, and you might be perfectly happy to sit in your apartment all day, but I can't see Michelle being a hermit. So why don't you guys take your time getting cleaned up, and we'll swing by around two this afternoon, okay?"

'Alright.' He gave in, and they hung up. Truthfully, he'd kind of wanted to spend more time talking with Michelle—they had a twelve-year gap to bridge. But it could wait another time; they'd have lots of that, or at least he hoped so.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Writer's block is the pits. But I have to thank _bookcrzygirl _for giving me the brilliant idea that shows up at the end of the chapter. Sweetie, that was much-needed; thnx!**

* * *

'Isn't he just adorable?' Garcia squealed as JJ handed Henry to his godmother. Michelle laughed from her spot on the couch, as the little boy squirmed in Garcia's arms. She was glad already that Reid had gotten her to eat and shower and change. And for letting his friends—their friends—come over to the apartment. They'd come bearing pizza, chips, pop and beer, plus more cheer than she'd had since a long, long time.

'Call this a late welcome party.' Emily had said, as she and Morgan cracked open the drinks. 'Which is more than I got when I came here.'

'Well, we really didn't know what to think of you, Emily.' JJ reminded her, as she ran a finger over one of the bookshelves. 'Spencer Reid, when was the last time you dusted in here?' She asked accusingly, and before Reid could defend himself, she'd disappeared into the kitchen to find cleaning supplies.

'JJ's gone on a bit of a clean streak since Henry was born.' Garcia told Michelle quietly, sitting down on the couch beside her. 'Hey, do you want to hold Henry?'

'No, I'm not really good with—' Michelle's protest was cut off when the little boy was plunked into her lap. She was amazed when Henry didn't start to cry immediately, just stared up at her in wonder. 'I guess the Genius Effect is wearing off.' She said weakly.

'Oh, so it's not just Reid?' Morgan asked. 'Cause dogs and babies used to really hate him.'

'My mom started to call it the Genius Effect after her dog wouldn't stop barking every time Reid or I was in the room.'

Morgan turned to Reid. 'You met her mom?'

'She came to visit during our freshman year.' He replied, turning a little red. 'Mrs. Soraley was very nice. She—'

'She's a quadriplegic.' Michelle finished for him. 'She was in a car crash when I was fourteen.'

Reid seemed to notice she was feeling a little uncomfortable, and provided a distraction by taking Henry from her. 'Hey little guy...'

Emily joined Garcia and Michelle on the couch, her eyes on godfather and godson. 'Isn't that just cute?' She sighed. 'Like a monkey with a puppy.'

'What, the situation, or the godfather?' Michelle asked slyly.

'You know what I mean, and I'm not the one who is bunking with said godfather.'

Garcia's eyes went as round as saucers. 'Why did nobody tell me of this?'

Michelle felt heat rising to her face; this was why she avoided "girl talk" moments. 'Guys, it's nothing, alright. There's nothing going on.'

'Answering questions she didn't get asked...' Emily and Garcia exchanged a knowing look, and Michelle knew she had shot herself in the foot, figuratively speaking.

'I swear, you two are going to drive me crazy.'

Morgan suddenly looked around. 'Hey, where did JJ go?'

She emerged from down the hall. 'Spencer Reid, that bathroom was filthy. How can you live in that?'

'JJ, did you clean my bathroom?' He asked, a little shocked. 'You really didn't have to—'

'My son's godfather is not going to die of a fungal infection.' JJ said firmly. 'Michelle, you are going to have to nag him into cleaning every week while you're here, okay?'

'I don't nag anybody about cleaning; I'm above hypocrisy.' She replied mildly.

'JJ, you didn't come with me to pack Michelle a bag.' Garcia added. 'You would have had a hairy fit.'

'I almost had a hairy fit this morning, when I saw what you packed me, Penelope Garcia. You managed to grab every garment my ex-boyfriends ever bought me; none of which I like, and most of which shall never be seen by Quantico.'

The blonde just smirked. 'Oh, just wait a week, and I'm sure you'll be glad I packed that stuff.'

Michelle threw her a dirty look. 'It's a damn good thing I still had my go-bag. And tomorrow, I'm going back to my apartment, to get some real clothes.'

'We.' Reid corrected her, as he handed Henry to his mother. 'We are going to your apartment; you're not driving with that leg Michelle.'

'I'm perfectly fine to drive, Spence.'

'No, you're officially impaired.'

Great; she'd have to be chauffeured around by Reid. It wouldn't be so bad, really, except that he drove like a fussy old woman. Then again, it was probably just that he knew way too many statistics on fatalities due to reckless driving. The curse of knowing everything.

'Actually,' Morgan smirked. 'I think Emily's the impaired on right now. That's beer number...?'

'Only three.' She grumbled. 'And it's our week off; we should enjoy it while it lasts. The only thing pulling us out into the field is an Amber Alert.'

'Not even an internet killing site?' Michelle asked teasingly.

'Garcia can just go in and track them down with her babies.'

Reid shook his head. 'Actually, there's only so much Garcia can do. You weren't able to locate where I was being held by Henkel with the computer.'

Immediately, the attitude of the room dropped ten degrees. They didn't want to remember Henkel, and the horrors his personalities had done. And Michelle knew right then and there that this was a group of people who saw evils, and wanted to forget that they did. But even though memories fade, they don't die; they'd never forget.

* * *

'... So then she glares at Morgan, and tries again, making it very clear it's Emily she means when she asks "What's your number, hot stuff?".'

Everyone laughed uproariously at Garcia's story. She'd been getting into the beer, and eventually Emily's surprise bottle of Tequila. They'd eaten all the pizza, most of the chips, and finished the drinks, and had fallen to telling rather embarrassing stories about each other. Michelle glanced out the window, and saw it was getting dark. A low throbbing in her leg emphasized the lateness of the hour.

'You guys should be thinking about getting home soon.' Reid said; he must have caught her glance out the window. 'Though which one of you driving...'

'That will be me.' JJ said firmly, taking Morgan's keys from him. 'Seeing as I'm the only one under the legal limit right now. Come on guys—Michelle needs to get some sleep, and so do you.'

Together, she and Reid managed to usher them out the door, much to Michelle's relief. They were great, but she was tired, and the Dilaudid was wearing off. 'Thanks Spence. I guess I owe you another one.'

'Michelle, you don't owe me anything.' He assured her, joining her on the couch. 'Besides, two drunken profilers, and a drunk tech goddess can be a little too much for anyone. That's why I don't go out with them much.'

'I haven't gone out much since I left Yale.' She admitted. 'I mean, I cut back on my social drinking when I got clean, and bars kinda suck when you're sober.'

'Another reason why I don't go out.'

Michelle thought back to the days when she had gone to bars; or at least as much as she could remember... There was so much that was just a hazy blur, with odd, snapshot memories of things she'd almost rather forget. She didn't want her life to be like that ever again. She wanted to really live it.

'It's almost ten o'clock Michelle.' Reid said reluctantly. ' You should get ready for bed.'

'No, I don't want to go to sleep yet.' She replied stubbornly. 'I want to stay up late, and push my limits a bit.'

'You do realize how childish that sounds, right?'

'I don't care. And "getting ready for bed" sounds even more childish.'

Standing up, he faced her from the other side of the coffee table. 'Michelle Soraley, if you want to get better and recover you need to eat and sleep properly. At least ten hours every night.'

'You don't need to talk to me like I'm a child.' She muttered. 'You know how much you hated being treated like a kid.'

'Well, start acting like an adult.' Reid said irritably. 'Rather than a snarky teenager.'

He was right. She was acting like a teenager— the one she never was—and Michelle was perfectly happy to indulge in the role. In fact, she might have said something she'd regret later, had the phone not rang just then. Reid answered it, nodded twice and then handed it over to a surprised Michelle. 'Hello?'

"Agent Soraley, this is Dr. Sweets calling from the BAU." A young, male voice said far too cheerfully on the other end. "I'm sorry, I know it's late, but Agent Strauss asked me to call you."

'In regards to...'

"Right, you don't know who I am; I'm the Unit Psychologist."

Michelle felt her stomach drop like a stone. Strauss had ordered for her to be evaluated by a Shrink; another Shrink! She was a Shrink; mind, a forensic one, and not clinical. Glancing at Reid, she saw he look surprised and apologetic. He hadn't expected this, and he felt sorry for her.

'I'm sorry, but I'm not expected to return to work for a long time; I don't see how an evaluation would be needed.' Michelle replied pointedly.

Dr. Sweets cleared his throat. "I know; I was surprised she asked myself. But Agent Strauss told me that there has been a bit of a history of problems on your team with agents returning from trauma. She wanted to make sure past mistakes weren't repeated, and I totally agree."

She sighed. 'Is this really necessary? I'm not exactly in the best shape to be running around Quantico right now.'

"So long as you come in by the end of the week, I'm good."

She placed a hand over the mouthpiece. 'Spence, we're going over to my apartment tomorrow, right?'

He shrugged. 'That was the plan.'

'Then we can stop by Quantico—may as well make it one trip.' Michelle uncovered the phone. 'Alright, I can come tomorrow; get this out of the way.'

"Cool!" The Shrink, who sounded younger the more he talked, agreed. "Stop by anytime, I'll be there all day; probably in the break room. You'll find me."

They hung up, and Michelle noticed Reid was smirking at her. 'What's so damn funny?'

'You didn't have a chance to meet Sweets yet. Let's just say he's young.'

Young meant immature; the stereotype Michelle knew they'd both worked so hard to break with the Bureau. He probably knew she was a psychologist herself, but he didn't know if she'd use that against him. This could be fun.

**

* * *

**

So we're having a bit of a cross-into from my story Five Years Changes Everything, with a cameo appearance by Sweets. Once again, thanks _bookcrzygirl; _I totally owe you!


	9. Chapter 9

**So I know this is a shorter chapter, but I was writing on the fly. Disclaimer: I do not own Criminla Minds, or the characters from Bones.**

* * *

Sweets sat in the BAU break room, with a cup of strong coffee, and SA Dr. Michelle Soraley's personnel file open in front of him. This was not what he'd been expecting when the Bureau moved him to the BAU. He'd thought he'd be a profiler—in his mind, that's what being promoted and sent to the BAU meant. But no; he was still a citizen Shrink, only now to the hardest people to council in the world! Profilers knew too much psychology.

This one though, she was going to be a real piece of work. There was one thing every Psychologist knew, that was never learnt in the classroom; Psychologists were the worst to evaluate. They were defensive, and knew everything you were looking for, or seeing. And his first post-trauma eval _had_ to be the profiler with the full PhD in Psychology.

Glancing up, he saw a young woman on crutches coming through the doorway, followed by Dr. Reid. He'd seen Reid around the BAU, but the profiler tended to avoid him, just like everyone else. 'Dr. Soraley, nice to meet you...'

'Despite the circumstances; I get it.' She replied. Sweets was instantly reminded of another young woman, about her age, and intelligence, over at the Jeffersonian, with Zack...

'Dr. Sweets,' Reid was eyeing the psychologist with distrust. 'How long do you think this is going to take?'

'Oh, not long. I don't even have a guideline, really; it's totally unofficial. Just to give Strauss some peace of mind.'

'Not that she's ever needed it before...' Reid muttered.

'Alright, so can we go get this done with? I'm supposed to be recuperating at home, not standing around the break room at work.' Michelle said pointedly.

'Right.' Sweets grinned, hoping they might too. But Michelle remained irritated-looking, and Reid remained anxious. As he headed to the door, he noticed she gave her friend a look that said "I'll be fine; quit worrying about me." He knew that look—had seen it a million times working with Brennan and Booth.

Leading Michelle to his office—which felt like a closet compared to his old one— he made sure she was sitting comfortably. 'So this is going to be totally easy on you, Dr. Soraley.'

'Well, this must be unofficial if the evaluation got handed off to you, Dr. Sweets. I think the only other Psychologist I've known of that's as young as you, was me at your age.'

That was snippy. 'I'm sorry if I've already offended you in some way, Dr. Soraley, but—'

'Start by dropping the "Dr. Soraley" thing, okay?' She said irritably. 'Michelle is just fine.'

'Alright, Michelle, have you had any flashbacks to the shooting? Awake or asleep?'

'No, not this particular shooting.' Michelle replied. 'But you probably noticed in my file that there were four other times I've been shot. After the second one, I did have some flash-backs, and dealt with PTSD for about six months. But after that, I haven't had a problem.'

Sweets looked down at the file. 'How about your sleep? How is that right now?'

'My pain meds knock me out pretty much right away, and I sleep about ten— twelve hours every night. And for the record, I don't hold with Freud dream interpretation, so don't even ask.'

Sweets rolled his eyes. 'Listen; I know you don't like that your being "shrinked", but it has to be done Michelle. So if you were just a little less defensive, that would help me a lot.'

She laughed sourly. 'Here's the thing, Dr. Sweets. You and I both know that there should be some sort of foundation of trust here; you've given me no reason to trust you. So either this evaluation ends here, or you tell me who it is you have on your computer desktop.'

Sweets glanced at the monitor of his computer. There was a picture that had been taken of them all on Zack's first day back at the Jeffersonian. If Michelle wanted personal information in exchange for opening up, he could tell her. It wasn't some deep, personal secret. It was a picture of people who he cared about, all together.

'The two people in the middle are Dr. Temperance Brennan and SA Seeley Booth from the DC Field office. I used to council them, not that they _really_ needed it. Dr. Brennan is—'

'The best Forensic Anthropologist in the country.' Michelle cut in. "I have a Masters in Anthropology. I've also read her books.'

'On the left,' He continued. 'Are Angela Montenegro, and Dr. Jack Hodgins. She's a Forensic Artist, and he's an Entomologist and Trace expert. On the right, are Drs. Zack Addy and Kat Martin.'

She squinted closer at the screen. 'I remember hearing about Dr. Addy; he was charged with murder and tied into a cannibalistic secret-society. I heard the charges were discreetly dropped just a little while ago.'

'I, ah, helped set up that appeal. Me, Hodgins and Kat. She was friends with Zack in university.' Sweets said quietly. 'They're dating now. I wouldn't be surprised if they got married before Hodgins and Angela even.'

'Who's that on the far left?' Michelle asked.

'Dr. Camille Saroyan—the boss. They all work together; the great crime-solving team of Washington, DC.'

She took another look at the screen. 'That's interesting... you say Dr. Addy is dating Dr. Martin, but in the photo, you're displaying body language that shows interest in her.' Michelle grinned, pointing to him on the far right. 'You have a thing for her, don't you?'

Sweets felt himself blushing a little bit; time to change the topic. 'Is there a reason why Dr. Reid was being so protective of you? It struck me as a little more than friends.'

'Spence is probably the closest friend I've got. And he's a little protective of me, because I'm not always so protective of myself. I do have a history of getting shot...'

That wasn't it, and Sweets knew it. It was just like Brennan and Booth, and Zack and Kat. But he also knew that in cases like this, it was pointless to push the issue. He'd let it go; it wasn't relevant to how she'd perform her job anyways.

* * *

'... have a history of fraternization, Michelle. Do you know why that is?'

It had been fifteen minutes since she had gotten the kid to tell her about his friends in DC, and Michelle was getting sick of these questions. 'I have a history, because there are lots of lonely, single guys in the FBI, and they just seem to like me.'

Truth was, she didn't see casual flings as "fraternizing" of any kind. Fraternizing meant there was an emotional connection, which there never was. She didn't want emotional connections, even if her succession of "boyfriends" did. It was too much pain and risk to bother really caring about them.

'I keep seeing a pattern of careless behaviour here.' Sweets said, a little more firmly to get Michelle's full attention. 'The gunshots, the near-death situations, the succession of meaningless relationships. And if you weren't a genius, I'd say it was poor judgement; but you're smarter than this Michelle.'

'Open up Spence's file; it's not so different from mine. Kidnappings, knifepoint situations, reckless decisions... and he's a genius too.'

'Then maybe you both have the same issues; sick mother, absent father, difficult schooling until Cal Tech—maybe you both need to examine what it is that gives your health and well-being a lower priority in your lives.'

Michelle knew she wasn't going to tell Reid that. It wasn't their fault that trouble seemed to find them—that was just bad luck, right? This kid—honestly, he looked twelve years old—still had to learn how to apply Psychology to the real world, and real people.

'Why did you go into Psychology, Dr. Sweets?'

The question seemed to surprise him. 'When I was a young teen, I started reading about sociopaths like Charles Manson, and Ted Bundy... I guess I wanted to learn what is was in people that could let them hurt each other so badly. What makes the serial killers, rapists and sadists of the world tick.'

He was attracted to the abnormal, criminal side of it like so many others. 'Then what are you doing, evaluating shot FBI agents?'

'I wanted to be a profiler with the BAU, but I'm not an agent.'

'Must be hard, seeing someone like me.' Michelle couldn't help saying. She wanted to push a few buttons with the young Psychologist. 'I'm basically what you want to be, right? Profiler, agent, psychologist; going out into the field, and facing some of the cruellest people on the earth...'

'We can't always get what we want though.' Sweets said hastily. 'I'm lucky to not be working in a psychiatric facility for the criminally insane. Like McKinley in DC.'

'Is that where they put Dr. Addy?'

He paused. 'It is; that's where he was for a year. You know, the problem with patients in places like that is that they don't get enough sane interaction. It's difficult to convince family and friends to visit. Zack had few regular visitors there until Kat came back to the states. She went to see him every Saturday for six months straight. Nothing kept her away from Zack.'

Sweets did like Dr. Kat Martin, no matter what he said. It was in the tone of his voice, and expression of his face every time he mentioned her. Michelle felt a stab of pity; he had to watch her fall in love and build a life with someone else. Someone she really loved; not just a school-yard-style crush. Thank god Michelle had never been there herself.

* * *

'So, how did it go?' Reid asked Michelle as she and Sweets immerged from his office. He watched the look on the older man's face, and almost laughed out loud. There was no denying he felt about the young woman as more than a friend, no matter how much she denied it.

'It went fine. I just want to get out of here.' She replied. The words could have been short and snarky, but the tone was gentler. At the very least, she appreciated his concern. 'Starting to get tired.'

'We could go to your apartment another day.'

'No, may as well get it over with.'

Sweets let out a little cough, reminding them he was there. 'I'll be telling Strauss that Michelle's doing fine and, pending an official evaluation, will be good to go back in the field when she's recovered.'

'Good.' Reid gave him a somewhat twisted smile. 'That's good to hear. Maybe I should get Morgan to lay off calling you stuff behind you back Sweets.'

'What does he call me?' He asked, not sure if he really wanted to know.

'Aside from a baby-faced twelve year old and that you probably still live in your mom's basement? Not much in particular.'

They really were as bad as Booth, if not a little worse. 'Great... tell Morgan that I am twenty-four and living on my own, thank you very much.'

Michelle sniggered. 'If you want respect Dr. Sweets, act your age!'

He watched as they both laughed, and headed for the elevator. Sweets wasn't sure how he felt right now. A little hurt— pride-wise— and something else that felt a little hollow; a feeling he associated with Kat. Michelle was like Kat; she'd reminded him of her. He hadn't spoken to her for a little while... Maybe he should call her—see how she and Zack were doing.

**

* * *

**

So, I think that's the last we'll see of Sweets, or hear about any of the Bones crew. I actually had fun writing this chapter; I've always liked writing for Sweets. Anyvays... R&R, Please?


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: So this is probably the most introverted chapter I've writen so far, and I have to admit, I had a muse for this chapter in particular, when I went to write it. _If it Kills Me_ by Jason Mraz. Listen to the song after reading this, and see if you agree with me.**

* * *

The atmosphere in the car was subdued as Reid and Michelle drove from Quantico to her apartment building. She hadn't spoken a word since they left; had gone from laughing to solemn in the elevator ride down to the parking lot. He knew she must have been thinking about something Sweets had said. Something that she was taking to heart, or at least considering.

'You know, Psychology is only what you make of it.'

'What?'

Reid dared to take his eyes off the road for a moment to look at her. 'Just because Sweets said it, whatever it is, doesn't mean it's true.'

Michelle shrugged, staring out the window at overcast skies that threatened rain. 'He said I'm careless with my safety.'

'Do you think you are?' He asked.

'No...'

'Then there's you answer.'

Rain began to fall in a misty drizzle, and Reid flipped on the car heater. 'I don't think I've ever seen you more unsure of yourself.' He admitted.

Michelle let the corner of her mouth twist into a wry smile. 'You missed seeing all the good stuff when I was a mess.' She laughed dryly. ' I mean, I've always been a little unsure, but I had you Spence; someone who was there and understood. You know I am really lucky to have you as my friend; way back then, and now.'

He was lucky to have her, Reid knew that—had always known it. Michelle had once been the best thing in his entire life, and it had hurt to lose her; probably more than he'd wanted to admit at the time. She'd been the second person he'd watched walk away from him, and she was the second to come back. But rather than be on the edges like his dad, Michelle was center-stage for Reid—and he wasn't sure if she was going to stay that way, but he wanted her to. The past few days had served to remind him why he'd cared for her in the first place. Why he'd—

'Mind turning the heat down Spence?'

Michelle's voice cut through his thoughts, and he adjusted the temperature in the car. Glancing at Michelle, he saw that her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was curling more than usual in the humidity. She looked healthier than she had since being shot; prettier too, but that was neither here nor there. Reid knew there were feelings he still wasn't quite ready to examine and accept concerning Michelle. Things he'd been avoiding since Cal Tech; things he felt might be too fragile to examine even yet.

'Hey Spence,' She started, breaking off his thoughts again. 'Did you know about Sweets, and what he did in DC?'

What he did? 'I guess not...'

Michelle shifted in the car seat. 'Oh, well he helped out a friend there; Zack Addy. He got into some pretty deep trouble—accessory to murder trouble—and apparently he worked hard to fix it.'

Reid noticed a hint of admiration in her eyes. 'Anyways, I think we should tell Morgan and the others to lay off him a bit. I think Sweets is one of those people who does well by his friends. Even if he's a slightly misguided shrink.'

' I'll remember that.'

'And you have to forgive him for being misguided—he's just a kid still.' Michelle added, unaware that Reid was smirking in the seat beside her; she'd secretly liked the kid psychologist. What else did she secretly like? Feel?

* * *

By the last flight of stairs up to her apartment, Michelle's leg was starting to hurt her in earnest. The elevator was out of commission, and she had to live on the fourth floor. So far, her jeans were not stained red, so she hadn't ripped any stitches, and wasn't bleeding, but...

'Michelle, are you sure you can make it?' Reid asked, concern written all over his face. 'Because I can go get the stuff for you.'

She shook her head. 'I'll be okay Spence. And I don't think you want to go digging through my underwear drawers anyways.'

He blushed, but said nothing, and Michelle smiled to herself. He was still like a teenager in that respect; uncomfortable and easily embarrassed. It was endearing, really. Reid was the opposite of other guys in her life; sweet, shy, earnest, and honest. She had no idea what she'd done to deserve him, and was blessed to have him as her friend, if nothing else.

Shoving the key in her lock, Michelle opened the door to her apartment with a sigh. 'Welcome to _Chez Michelle_, as messy and pathetic as it is.'

The apartment was open-format. A living room set apart from the kitchen by a half-wall partition. In the opposite wall, two doors opened to a bedroom and bathroom. The walls were white, the furniture was tan, and the carpet was a blue-grey. In one corner sat her computer desk, littered with paper, books and disks. In between the two doors was a wall unit housing a large plasma TV, TiVo, DVD player, and a collection of DVDs and books. It was a sad reflection on her life, but it was "home".

'It's not that bad.' Reid said, going over to examine her DVD collection. 'All things considering.'

Michelle smiled, shaking her head, and headed into her bedroom. Pulling a bag out of the closet, she stuffed into it jeans, sweats and corduroy pants. On top of that were piled t-shirts, tank-tops, and other "essentials". Unceremonious, hasty, and just the way it ought to be. Garcia had carefully folded every slinky, lacy garment she'd packed, and it had annoyed the hell out of her even more. She was sitting around Reid's apartment, not going out for cocktails!

'See anything you want to borrow?' She asked, re-entering the living room to see her friend still looking through the DVDs.

'Not especially. Do you have every season of ER here?'

'Yeah; it was a great show. Better than the crap on TV nowadays.'

He stepped back for a moment. 'Remember when we used to watch The X-Files every Friday?'

She did. Michelle remembered how they'd go down to the lounge, and squash together into armchair, watching Mulder and Scully working the unexplainable, unsolved cases of the FBI. How it had spawned various debates of whether the paranormal existed, or government conspiracies. She had been the believer, he the skeptic. Friday had become her favourite day of the week after only a few months. 'That was a great show...'

Reid grabbed her bag, and they vacated the apartment. 'Think going down will be easier on you?'

'I think so...' Passing the crutch she'd been using to her friend, Michelle sat on the railing, and slid down to the bottom of that flight. 'Definitely so.'

'You're going to break your neck.'

'I do this all the time Spence. That elevator only works half the time, and I'm not about to waste time on the stairs in the morning.'

Switching to the next rail, she slid down to the third floor landing, and waited for Reid to catch up. 'Fine, but if you fall, I'm not calling an ambulance.'

'Even if my head was turned 180°?'

'Maybe then.'

Michelle laughed, and slid down the next rail. 'You're a push-over, you know that?'

'I know.' He admitted, a grin on his face. 'When it comes to my friends at least.'

That was how it had always been; they'd always done anything for each other. Borrowed each other's notes, edited each other's assignments... Reid had sat with her patiently when she was ranting and raving about someone that had upset her. Michelle had assured him he was worth more than whichever girl had rejected him knew. She'd set up dates for him with friends, people she happened to know; Cal Tech had more teenagers on campus than most universities—they were the best school in California, so far as the Alumni were concerned. And Dabney House had its fair share of "brains".

But Reid probably didn't know the most important thing Michelle had done for him. She'd recognized that he wasn't quite mature enough, and had pushed aside feelings for him she'd been very aware of, even then. Pushed them aside, tried to forget them, and thought she'd succeeded by the time she left. And she'd done it because he wasn't ready, and then because he didn't show any interest, and then...

She'd thought it was too late. And it probably was, because so much as it felt like they were going back to the start, they weren't; this was another time, and place, and they were different people. They were grown up now; and the past was gone, just as The X-Files was gone from prime time television. Michelle knew she should never have left California with that kind of unfinished business. But she had, and now her best friend—her secret love—was back in front of her, but just out of reach again.

Reid voice broke her out of her reverie as they reached the building's front door. 'Michelle, I was just thinking...'

'What?' Was he thinking the same things she was?

'What should we do for dinner? Cause neither of us can cook.'

So much for wishful thinking. 'I don't know... we could pick up something on the way home. Just not McDonalds; I don't feel like being shot today.'

He let out a chuckle. No matter what, Michelle Soraley still had her sense of humour; as bad as it could be. Something she'd learned a long time ago was to use humour to her full advantage, because you couldn't hurt too bad if you were laughing, right?

* * *

Reid watched as Michelle leaned back against the headboard, overpowered by the rush of the drug in her veins; in her brain. Her eyes were closed, lips just slightly parted, head tilted to rest against the cheap wood. Given any other circumstances, she would have been beautiful; it would have been attractive. But right now, the sight of her like that hurt him.

He'd spent a lot of time thinking that day; re-examining everything concerning Michelle in his life. Things he'd spent years avoiding, but that he was now mature enough to face, and he he'd discovered a lot within himself. He felt more for Michelle than friendship—there was no denying it anymore. And with all that had happened recently, with their finding one another again, and Michelle's history repeating... was that a sign?

Reid knew now that he should have never let Michelle leave the first time with this sort of baggage between them. But this strange situation of "how it should have been" that was happening now, was this the second chance? A chance to be truthful and honest with both himself and Michelle, to tell her what he should have almost twelve years ago?

Suddenly he noticed Michelle's eyes fluttering open; she was waking up from her drug-induced sleep. 'That was quick.' He said, smiling.

'Half an hour-ish, Spence?' She said, looking at the alarm clock with somewhat unfocused eyes. 'Did you actually sit there staring at me for the past half-hour?'

It had been that long? 'I guess...I was thinking about some things.'

'When are we not thinking about some things?'

'Good point.'

Michelle sat up straighter, and seemed to check herself. 'I feel like I could use a shower.' She said, swinging her legs off the side of the bed.

'Are you sure you can manage?' Reid asked, alarmed as she stood up and swayed a little unsteadily.

'I'll be fine.' She assured him, steadying herself. 'You don't need to worry about me Spence; I can take care of myself.'

He watched her slip out of the room and sighed to himself; he'd just have to trust her on this one. Normally, he would have trusted her with his life, but this wasn't exactly normal; this was a different time. Maybe the wrong time. Maybe he should wait on taking that chance. What if he was risking their friendship; what if he ruined it?

Across the hall, the water came on in the shower, and soon Michelle's voice came drifting back to where Reid still sat on the edge of the bed. "_All I really wanna do is love you, A kind much closer than friends use. But I still can't say it after all we've been through... And all I really want from you is to feel me, as the feeling inside keeps building. And I will find a way to you if it kills me..."_

She was singing what he was feeling. There was a song for what he was feeling, and Michelle was singing it. But what did it mean; that she just liked the song? Or that she was feeling the same way? That same hesitation, yet wanting.

"_If I should be so bold, I'd ask you to hold my heart in your hand; Tell you from the start how I've longed to be your man. But I never said I would, I guess I'm gonna miss my chance again..."_

Maybe there was only two chances at something like this. And if they'd missed their first just over eleven years and three months ago, this time... Life was too short and unpredictable not to take those chances. All those times he'd nearly died, all those times Michelle had been shot—that was indisputable proof that life could just end unexpectedly. He had to tell her while he still could; while there was still a chance.

Reid heard the water turn off, and it was only a few minutes later that Michelle stepped out of the bathroom. Her hair in damp ringlets, and her cheeks flushed like they'd been in the car. Meeting her at the door, Reid knew what he was going to say; what he needed to tell her.

'Michelle—'

'Yeah, Spence?'

That was as far as he got; his great intellect, well-read mind, and extensive vocabulary chose then to fail him. Because what he wanted to tell Michelle could never be said properly in words; there were no words for what needed to be said. So he resorted to the next-best action; the boldest move he could ever make. Bending down, he captured Michelle's lips in a tender, honest kiss.

**

* * *

**

So if you didn't guess it, Michelle's singing If it Kills Me. When I heard that song the first time, I thought omg, that's Reid and Michelle in a song. Don't you agree? Let me know what you think. And I have to thank Travis Wall of So You Think You Can Dance for choreographing a routine that utterly inspired me. If you haven't seen the routine and want to, the video link is on my profile. Watch it people!


	11. Chapter 11

**The usual disclaimers, and all that jazz.**

* * *

Shock.

That was all Michelle felt was utter shock._ God, I must be dreaming, or hallucinating._ There was no way this was real. That Spencer Reid, her best friend and secret passion, was kissing her in the doorway to his bedroom. And even as she found herself kissing him back, she knew there had to be some catch; there was no way... She pulled away from him, and Reid looked panicked.

'I'm sorry—that was too—I shouldn't have—I'm sorry—' He stammered, and she realized it was reality; only the real Reid would stammer like that. 'I really—I should have—'

'Spencer, shut up for a second.' Michelle said firmly, grabbing him by the arm, and seating him on the bed. 'You just really... surprised me, okay? I wasn't expecting that.'

He opened his mouth to say something—probably an apology—but she stopped him with a pointed look. She just had to say it; no more beating around the bush. Just honest.

'You surprised me, because I never expected you to kiss me, Spence. And it's a good surprise, because you and I... I always knew I wanted to be more than your best friend, but I couldn't tell you. You weren't ready for what I had to say when we were teenagers, and then it all seemed a little too late. Even after I found you again...'

Reid was looking up at her with such an expression of... amazement; it was as if he was sitting in front of a goddess, not just his oldest, closest friend. Who just so happened to be telling him what in her heart, concerning him, after he'd kissed her. And it was all a little overwhelming. Michelle closed her eyes against tears that were threatening to form from the emotional overload, and felt his hand reach out and grasp hers.

'I always thought you just didn't want me.' He said suddenly, in a low half-whisper. ' You could have anyone you wanted Michelle; why would you want me? And there was always the chance that if I said anything, I'd lose you as a friend. Better you were just my friend than nothing at all. And I probably didn't realize exactly how much you meant to me until you were gone. And it took a long time to admit it all to myself.'

Michelle opened her eyes, and found herself looking directly into his warm brown eyes. God, how those eyes had always sped up her heart; not that she'd ever admitted it to herself before now... What was she supposed to say?

'Why did you choose to "tell" me now?'

He smiled, and turned a bit red. 'You do know other people can hear you when you sing in the shower, right?'

Smacking herself on the forehead, she broke out laughing. Of course! That stupid song... She'd heard it on the radio so many times on and off lately, and had been thinking about it, and how it was like how she felt... 'I knew that song would be the end of me.' She said, getting her laughter under control. Reid was grinning too, and looking less nervous now.

' Is it going to kill you?'

'That particularly bad bit of humour might.'

Sitting down next to him, Michelle dared to lean her head on his shoulder. 'This isn't exactly how I pictured this turning out, you know. Everyone expects this kind of moment to be romantic, but instead, I just finished laughing like an idiot.'

'I don't think that matters so much.' Reid replied. 'Western culture has over-emphasized the idea of romance because it is marketable. There are still many cultures where romantic love is an unattainable dream, and people marry for status, wealth, or power.'

'Way to sap the last hint of romanticism out of the moment.' She teased. 'Now I believe I can guilt you into making up for that little lecture...'

He kissed her again, and this time Michelle was more than willing to respond to it; to savour the fact that she finally had the sweet guy she'd wanted from the start. And the fact that they were now making out like a couple of teenagers struck her as ridiculously funny and ironic. They'd regressed to their teenage selves, and gone back to the start to do it right.

Grabbing Reid's hand from where it rested on her back, Michelle slid it around to her front, and up to be pressed against her sternum; against the beating of her heart. It could tell him what she couldn't say with words. She wanted to let them take this relationship way too fast, and become way too mature; they were making up for lost time, weren't they? And even if she had to literally talk Spencer Reid into bed, she would; because they were far more ready than they needed to be.

* * *

The sound of his phone ringing pulled Reid from deep sleep. The night before had seemed like a dream; a surreal, crazy dream involving Michelle moaning his name over and over... But there she was curled up beside him, one naked shoulder peeking out from beneath the covers. The dream had been real; he finally had Michelle. They were together. The phone rang again impatiently, and he glanced at the alarm clock; eight in the morning. This wasn't going to be good.

'Reid.' He answered groggily, and saw Michelle was awake too, rubbing sleep from those startlingly aquamarine eyes.

"It's JJ." She said, sounding far more awake than he did. "We have an emergency case; an Amber Alert in San Diego—three kids snatched in the last twelve hours."

Reid knew what that meant . 'What time are we heading out?'

"Briefing at nine, wheels up at nine-thirty. Garcia's offered to keep Michelle company while we're gone; she can stay with her."

He nodded, then remembered that JJ couldn't see it over the phone. 'We'll be there by nine.'

'Case?' Michelle asked as he hung up the phone, and threw off the covers.

'Amber Alert in San Diego. There are three kids missing.' He grimaced, and started throwing on clothes, then remembered he still needed a shower. They both did; they both still smelled like sex. 'We have an hour to get there.'

'Quick shower, eat toast in the car; I know the drill, Spence.' She laughed, grabbing clothes from her bag, and pushing past him out the bedroom door. 'And for the record, the morning after is only as awkward as you make it. I mean, I've worked with people I slept with before.'

Reid thought about that as they got ready, got out the door, and drove to Quantico. This wasn't really a situation he was used to; being involved with a co-worker. Besides the fact that the FBI strongly discouraged fraternization, there were not a lot of young agents—women agents—that he came into contact with. As he and Michelle boarded the elevator together, he decided they had to get one thing absolutely clear.

'Um, we're not telling the team about us yet, are we?'

She shook her head, a small smile teasing her lips. 'Not yet. Maybe in a month or so when I'm done sticking needles in my veins. Unless something traumatic happens, like you get kidnapped, or shot. Then it might have to come out in a tearful confession to Garcia or Emily.'

'I hope not.' He said, giving her a quick kiss before the doors opened and they had to walk out into the BAU.

Everyone seemed to be flat-out bummed to be there that morning. Their week's break had been ended by a case—a difficult case involving missing kids. It was hardest whenever it was kids, especially on Hotch and JJ. Reid knew they must think of Jack and Henry most on days like these. Being a parent tended to add to the burden BAU agents bore.

After downing three cups of crappy federal coffee, Reid felt he was awake enough for the briefing. Filing into the conference room after the others, he watched Michelle lean her crutch against the wall, before sitting down. It had been decided she would be there as a criminal psychology consultant, and would keep in touch with them via webcam with Garcia.

'Three children taken from their beds in San Diego last night.' JJ began, pulling up photos on the screen. 'Jamie Prescott, age 5; Harry Newton, age six; and Mike Fielding, age 5. Different neighbourhoods, different appearances, but all taken from their bedrooms through open windows with slit screens.'

'No bodies yet?' Emily asked.

'No, and this doesn't seem like a kidnap for ransom either.' Rossi mused, looking in the file.

'Well, wheels up at nine-thirty.' Hotch said grimly. 'Garcia, Michelle; we'll conference call you when we're in the air.'

As everyone left the conference room, Reid and Michelle hung back. 'Don't let Garcia's fussing get to you, and take care of yourself for me.' He said, squeezing her shoulder rather than risking another kiss.

'Don't worry about me.' She replied. 'Just focus on the case.'

He nodded, and rushed to go get his stuff together; he didn't want to leave her behind just yet, but there was no choice. They had to run off to go fight the evils of the world.

* * *

It was ten to ten; they had to have been in the air twenty minutes by now, but they hadn't called. Michelle felt impatient tension in her gut, and yet it was strangely comforting. It was this kind of waiting that had been a large part of her career in White Collar crime. Waiting for the phone-call to be made; for the line to be tapped or the informant to hand over the numbers. Sometimes it had overlapped into organized crime—the mob— and that had been... interesting. But this... _anticipation_ had been missing this last while. She relished it, though appeared outwardly irritated as she sat in Garcia's domain.

'You have to give them about a half-hour after takeoff to get their noses out of the case file.' Garcia was saying as she absent-mindedly played Tetris.

'I know... I just wish I was with them.' She sighed.

'So how was he last night?'

Garcia's question made Michelle's heart skip a beat. How the hell did she know? But she had to play it cool—this was her and Reid's secret. 'Oh that is wishful thinking, Ms. Garcia. Very wishful thinking.'

'Au contraire,' the blonde said with a smirk, switching her attention fully to Michelle. 'You have that lovely radiance of a woman who got it good the night before. So I decided to check the camera footage in the elevator, and saw the good doctor kiss you, on tape. You can't hide from Penelope Garcia, Dr. Soraley.'

Damn; busted. 'Well, Spence and I were hoping to keep this quiet for a while. I mean, it's only been one night; we finally cleared up over a decade's worth of emotions last night. Though I have loved Spence for my adult life to this date, plus most of my teen years.'

She didn't realize she'd been avoiding looking at Garcia till after that little... confession. But one look at the other woman told her that Penelope Garcia wasn't going to tease, or question. 'That is probably the sweetest thing ever.'

'Well, sweet or not, this stays between you, Spence, and myself, okay? Because I really don't want to deal with Morgan, or Hotch, or—god forbid—Strauss.'

'I won't tell a soul.' Garcia promised. 'But now girl-talk must begin. So how was he last night?'

'I don't think I want to answer that.' Michelle said loftily. 'Besides, I don't kiss and tell. They tell—that's why I get written up for fraternization.'

'Do I have to slip you a truth serum into your coffee?'

'Do you have access to a truth serum?'

She faltered for a moment. 'Well... I can ask you while you're high! Apparently you have much looser lips when inebriated.'

She obviously wasn't going to give up. 'Are you sure you want to know this, Pen? Because once you know something, you generally can't un-know it.'

'Tell.'

'You know how some guys are so sure and obnoxious, they're just... cocky? Spence is the absolute opposite, and that made it sweet. Incredible, really.'

Michelle felt heat rising to her face; god, she was actually blushing! Garcia noticed this, and gave her a warm, knowing smile. 'And I bet our sweet Genius Boy talked way too much before and after.'

'He is a talker.' She conceded.

Luckily, it was then that the phone chose to ring. 'You've reached the Center of Utter Female Brilliance.' Garcia quipped. 'Are we ready to rock and roll, kiddos?'

"Garcia, you get worse every case." Hotch sighed. "We're ready to start the proper briefing, if Michelle's ready."

'Absolutely. Let's get started.'

**

* * *

**

So, not as romantic as I thought this chapter was going to be. But real life isn't always that romantic. Oh, and if you want to see a great movie that's probably the closest to a realistic ending as I've ever seen, go watch _(500) Days of Summer_. It has Matthew Gray Gubler ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Go ahead and give me hell; It's been a long while since I updated. But I don't know... I didn't end up liking this case as much as my first one. Probably because I couldn't sneak myself in as a cameo. lol But I'm sorry, and I know this chapter doesn't make up for that nearly as much, but there are better ones on the horizon. Promise.**

* * *

'So who takes children from their beds in the middle of the night?' Emily mused. They were halfway to San Diego, and had gone over everything they knew about the case. Now it was time to look at the Unsub, and Reid's mind was racing through the possibilities.

"I think the real question is who takes multiple children, in different houses, in one night?" Michelle said thoughtfully. "It was a warm night, their windows were cracked and easily visible from the back lane, based on these pictures. That doesn't suggest planning at all, but merely victims of opportunity."

Rossi's frown of disapproval caught Reid's eye. 'We don't know that Michelle. It's possible he's been planning this for weeks, and was waiting for the perfect circumstances. Pedophiles will stalk and observe their targets for ages before even establishing contact.'

"Who says this is a Pedophile? They don't usually target multiple children at once, or take three in the same night."

The tone in Michelle's voice was defensive, and Reid could understand why; Rossi had shot down a plausible observation. No, they didn't know if there was planning, but it sure didn't look like it. Rossi didn't really disagree with Michelle... he just thought she shouldn't be involved in the case like this. It was obvious. Reid knew it, Michelle knew it, and a glance at Hotch told him he knew it too.

'Dave,' He said as Rossi opened his mouth to rebut her. 'She's right.'

'She's taking a controlled, mood altering substance.'

Rossi had tried to say it quietly, but Michelle heard him. "I am taking a prescription painkiller, yes, and at Hotch's word, I will remove myself from this conversation and this case. But I do not see any fault in my logic, and therefore do not question myself at this time. So, does anyone else have a problem with me?"

No one said a word, and Reid was secretly proud of Michelle. She had stood up for herself without resorting to raising her voice, or anything else. Just pure reasoning, and a firm tone. Even Rossi seemed humbled, because he didn't object, or even look up from his hands resting on the table.

"Good." Michelle said with finality. "Now what could we be looking at, other than a Pedophile?"

'The Unsub could be delusional; thinks the boys are theirs, and is trying to make a family.' Morgan said quickly, snapping out of the shocked state Michelle had placed the team in.

'It's also possible this could be a professional' Reid added.

'But there's been no ransom request.' JJ pointed out. 'This isn't a pro-kidnapper.'

"Human trafficking." Michelle clarified. "These boys could have been needed to fill an order, and if that's the case, they're as good as dead. The chances of finding them..."

They knew the chances; virtually none. So they just had to hope that wasn't the case; that they weren't gone.

'We'll call you later Michelle, Garcia.' Hotch said quietly, and he then disconnected the line.

There was tension in the jet now, and while Rossi appeared to be somewhat humbled, Reid couldn't help but stare defiantly straight ahead. There had been a time when he would have sided with Rossi without a doubt, but that was then, and this was now. Michelle meant more to him than his "idol", and Rossi seemed to sense that.

'So am I alone in doubting her?' He asked quietly, to Reid's surprise.

For a moment, no one spoke. 'I wouldn't let her be the sole voice of this team,' Emily said, speaking up. 'But no one should be; we have to work together, and listen to one another.'

They all nodded in agreement, and turned back to the case files. Reid couldn't wait to land, and get out of the confined space. He missed being at home, with Michelle, and no one else.

'Spence?' JJ came to sit beside him, and her voice carried the gentleness it always did for awhile after something had happened to him, such as the Owen Savage case. 'Are you alright? You seem... on edge.'

'It's just a mixture of tiredness and coming back to work.' He told her. 'I'm kinda worried about Michelle. I know Garcia will take care of her, but—'

'It's better knowing that you're there.' She finished for him. 'That's how it always is with Henry; I know Will will be just fine with him, but still... It shows you care about her; a lot.'

'I do. Eleven years ago, I thought I'd lost her for good, but now...'

'You've always loved her, huh?'

Reid nodded and was surprised not to feel himself blush like he usually did. 'Pretty much. Course back then, I always thought it was just something that'd pass. Even when it didn't, and then she left. And really, Caltech became way less amazing without Michelle there to make sure I enjoyed every minute of it.'

'Have you told her all that?' JJ asked. 'Cause if you haven't, do it soon. Better while you still can, than when it's too late.'

'I'll keep that in mind.' He agreed.

'I have to admit though, I'm worried about Michelle, and I'm worried about you too Spence. You know you don't have to do this alone; Morgan, Emily and I would be there in a second if you called. Even if you just wanted someone to talk to about all this. I know it's gotta be hard, having Michelle's drugs right there all the time—'

'I don't want them.' He told her flatly, and it was the truth, because so long as he was focused on Michelle, and helping her, he didn't think of the drugs, and didn't want them. 'There's so much more to want right now.'

* * *

Closing the hotel room door behind him, Reid swiftly pulled the chain across, and collapsed onto the bed. All day, he had chased leads, examined evidence, and come up with theories. And produced nothing; they were nowhere closer, and it had been almost twenty-four hours since the boys had been taken. So the team had retired for the night, hoping fresh eyes would show them something in the morning. Reid knew better than to think he'd sleep tonight. It was almost three in the morning back home, but he picked up his cell phone and dialled.

"Hey my gorgeous genius," Garcia answered cheerfully. "Everything okay on the west coast?"

'Yeah, I'm fine. Um, is Michelle awake?'

"Absolutely. In fact I think she's pining for you; never bed a girl, and then take off to be a hero the next morning, unless you're Morgan."

What was she talking about? How did she know...? 'Garcia, could you put Michelle on?'

"Absolutely. And I won't even listen in on the—" Garcia was cut off by the sounds of a struggle, and a sharp "Can it Penelope, or I swear I'll..."

'I love you too, Michelle.'

'"Sorry Spence—I meant our cheeky Garcia here." Michelle said apologetically. "And before you ask, yes I took my Dilaudid, no I have not ripped out my stitches, and Garcia guessed about last night and it's impossible to lie to that woman; she's crazy and brilliant."

'She is.' He conceded. 'Scary brilliant. But is she going to keep quiet? Because I can handle Garcia knowing, maybe Rossi, and maybe JJ. But not Emily, Morgan, Hotch or Strauss. Especially Strauss.' Because he'd once been Gideon's favourite, and she'd always despised him, despite his brilliance, because of that.

"We're safe, Spence; I promise. Besides, it's not like I'm about to start calling you pet names at work. Or at home, come to think of it. I don't do pet names."

Reid couldn't help but smile at that. 'I don't think I'd like being called a pet name. It's bad enough that you and JJ call me Spence.'

Michelle laughed. "You secretly like it. Now, is there something you wanted to talk about before we go to bed?"

'I just wanted to make sure you were okay.'

"I am Spence; no worries. Don't let me burden you, and just focus on the case. That's the most important thing right now, is getting those boys home. Alright?"

'Okay.' He gave in. 'Goodnight.'

"G'night Spence." She replied, and they both hung up.

Reid lay back on the bed, feeling appeased. Michelle was fine; she would be fine with Garcia. But why did he feel the need to worry at all?

Because it felt like worrying about his mother. And that was something he had done for most of his life, was take care of her, until he'd sent her to Bennington because he couldn't. So now he was taking care of Michelle, but what was the real reason? Love? Guilt about being unable to care for his mother? Some strange psychological proxy thing where he chose a woman most like his predominate female figure in childhood as his lover? Probably all of the above.

But unlike with his mother, he didn't resent caring for Michelle. He loved her; loved her both in spite of, and because of, her need for help. She'd been the strong one when they were kids, and now it only seemed her due that she should be able to be weak, and he the strong one in her stead .And Michelle had not asked for this; had protested initially at the idea of burdening him. But she wasn't a burden; she was Michelle. And with that thought, Reid left his clothes in a heap by his bag, and crawled into bed. He was exhausted, and just before sleep could claim him, he couldn't help but think that this was the first night in while he'd slept completely alone.

**

* * *

**

So a shorter chapter, yes, and not much happening. But I did have to point out that not everything's going to run so smoothly, particularly with an old-timer like Rossi around. BTW I know I've thrown Strauss' name around a few times, but she will not be making an appearance in this fic. I don't do Saber-toothed bitch from hell very well.


	13. Chapter 13

**So nothing can excuse my prolongued silence, aside from uninspiration and writer's block. but I will try to make a better effort. Promise.**

* * *

The glare of streetlights outside the window was just enough to keep Michelle awake as she lay in bed. Garcia had come to stay at Reid's apartment with her, and had firmly banished herself to the couch. Michelle wished she hadn't ; she could go for someone to talk to right now. Her sleep patterns were being disrupted, and now she was at a loss; insomniac again.

'Michelle, are you still awake?' Came a whisper from the doorway. Sure enough, even tech goddesses could have trouble sleeping.

'Yeah, but I'm used to it.' She turned on the light, and Garcia came and sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. 'Bet you'd never guess I'm a regular insomniac, hmm?'

'I don't think anyone who sees what we see sleeps easily at night.' Garcia said quietly. 'I don't. I mean, it was a long, long time before I was able to close my eyes without seeing our sweet genius back in that graveyard, being tortured.'

'I'm really thankful I never had to see that.'

'You'll see things just as bad on this job sometime. Hopefully never to someone you love. It's bad enough when I get left behind here and they go off and I worry about all of them.'

Michelle understood. 'They're your family.'

'The very best.' Garcia confirmed. 'My babies of flesh and blood. I can replace a computer, but not a member of my family.'

'My ideas of family are pretty messed up.' She admitted. 'After the accident that left my mom in her chair, she was never quite the same. And then my dad died and it just kind of got worse. I mean, I know she still loved me, but she used to be so positive and full of life, and after all that happened, it felt like she was always half wishing she was with him; whole and healthy.'

'And then you found Reid; another child from a broken home.' Garcia summarized.

'I guess that didn't improve things too much. He thought my mom was great. And it hurt to hear that because I was missing the old her, rather than being thankful she was still there, and still sane. Even if she couldn't hug me or anything...'

'Dianna Reid is a great person on one of her good days; she loves Reid a lot.'

Michelle nodded. 'I've always felt bad, because I've never met her. I've never even been to Vegas.'

'Well, it's never too late to go.' Garcia smirked. 'Particularly when you're involved with one of the natives.'

'Involved is a very loose term, you know. I mean, we were friends for years, but we've only been _together_ just over twenty four hours, and six of those was sleeping.'

'Ah, but I don't think I've ever gone full-throttle the same night I told a guy I love him. That's a pretty big step, especially for a guy who can probably count on his fingers how many women he's been with. Including you, Michelle.'

'Except that I've been wanting to jump his bones since I was fourteen.' She muttered, blushing. 'Ridiculous, huh?'

'You could have had so much time together!'

'We have now.' Michelle reminded her quietly. 'Even if things don't last, we have now. That's more than I ever thought I'd have, you know.'

Garcia frowned slightly. 'Why did you wait?'

'Because I knew he wasn't ready for what I wanted; I was always the emotionally mature one, and Spence needed to grow up a bit still. I mean, Spence didn't start dating until we were about fifteen, and by then I was having one night stands. And I figured there'd be time, once he'd finally caught up to me, for us to be together. I guess that was stupid of me, to assume things wouldn't chance, and that I'd still be there.' She laughed bitterly. 'I always was a stupid genius.'

'We all make mistakes.' Garcia assured her. 'I dropped right out of Cal Tech, and became one of the top hackers on the continent. Nearly got me arrested too. And Reid; God, he's made mistakes. Hotch, Rossi, Morgan, Emily; they've all done things and made mistakes. We're only human.'

'But when you're me, your mistakes tend to be bigger and stupider.' And there had been so many; leaving Caltech, the drugs, the one-night stands, the runs to Atlantic City for the night, the insane and hazy nights where she woke up wondering where her shoes were. But never arrested, never charged, and never found out were her three nicknames. The FBI had been none the wiser when they hired her; probably still didn't know everything.

'Angel, we should try to get some sleep.' Garcia said quietly.

'I don't think I've ever had a less fitting nickname in my life.' Michelle chuckled dryly.

'Then consider yourself a fallen angel, with a chance at redemption.'

She left, turning out the light, and Michelle lay staring at the pattern of the streetlights on the ceiling. Could she be redeemed? Or would she always be "Messed-Up Michelle", the FBI agent with a ton of brains, and a history of misusing them? Was too much of it in her psychology?

* * *

"What are you seeing Michelle?" Hotch asked the next morning. She was wired up to Garcia's secondary "baby"—her favourite laptop—to look at victimology and geography via webcam. Garcia, Hotch, Reid and herself were all sporting headsets, and it was all very reminiscent of White Collar special-ops.

'I'm seeing... nothing whatsoever. Our guy took three different boys, in different locations, in one night, then nothing; that was it. It's not a spree, or a pattern according to the records. I've never seen such a random, yet efficient abduction incident. It's like there was no emotional attachment...'

That was it; there was no emotional attachment in this crime; these crimes. This was what she feared the worst—had hypothesised it before when they first got the case.

"Michelle, are you alright?" Reid sounded concerned, and Michelle realized she'd just trailed off.

'I'm still with you guys. It's just that once we rule out emotional attachment which would come with a singular focus, kidnapping which would come with a ransom demand, and psychosis which would come with sloppiness... there's only one possibility left. These boys were taken for human trafficking purposes.'

"That makes sense; there was an order to fill, and a pressing need for boys which meant that the traffickers couldn't be more subtle." Reid said breathlessly, starting one of his rants. "Normally they would prey on the high-risk children; homeless kids, runaways, and child prostitutes. But if there was a need for three boys in the age bracket, it would mean resorting to home abductions."

'And by now, those boys could be in Mexico City, or Manhattan. They're probably alive, but the chances of finding them are next to none.' Garcia concluded. 'And this is why all kids should have GPS inserted into them at birth.' She disconnected her line, and left the office; she hated this, Michelle could tell.

"Thanks Michelle." Hotch said grimly, and he too left the connection. But Reid pulled up a chair into view of the webcam, and she enabled her own.

"Are you okay?" He asked gently.

'If I told you I was, we would both know I was lying, so I won't bother.' She admitted. 'I feel like shit Spence, and we can't help those boys; we have to turn the case over to the Organized Crime Unit to investigate, and I know their human trafficking expert is swamped.'

"We can't save everyone. I had to accept that a long time ago, Michelle, and there are times when I forget and have to be reminded. Now it's your turn to accept it."

'I know. It just feels really shitty, and I feel really shitty, and it's enough to make me feel—'

Like taking 5 cc's of Dilaudid; like getting high and forgetting all the terrible shit that happens in the world. That was what Michelle wanted—would probably always want whether she was using or not. It was the reality of her life, and of herself.

"When things went south in White Collar, what did you do?" Reid asked.

'I would usually throw myself into a destructive and pointless runaway relationship with someone in the Academy.' She admitted. 'Which I can't really do this time because I'm actually with you, rather than just closing my eyes and pretending they were you.'

"Maybe Sweets did have a point about self-destructive behaviour."

The last thing Michelle wanted to hear was that the Junior Shrink was right. 'Let's just leave it until you get home, Spence. I don't want to talk about it.'

"When I didn't talk about it, I skipped out on a flight I should have been on while working a case. I had people who were willing to talk to me, Michelle, just like you have; and you have nothing to hide." His tone had lost the understanding, and taken on an insistent edge. "Gideon didn't talk about things; not to Hotch, not to anyone. And he took off without saying goodbye."

'Well I'm not Gideon, and I'm not you, Spence. I've been fine for 28 years, and that's not going to change now.'

"Then why does it seem like you haven't been fine for the last twelve years?"

That was the last thing she wanted to hear. 'I'll see you when you get home, Spence.' She said, before disconnecting the line. She couldn't handle this right now.

* * *

It was almost five by the time the BAU jet touched down, and Hotch immediately pulled Michelle aside before Reid could sweep her away back home, and into his office. She had a very uneasy feeling that he had something to tell her that she wouldn't like at all. That it probably had something to do with the conference call two days ago, or the one yesterday.

'Michelle, I know you were given clearance to work from Quantico while you're out of commission and on Dilaudid. But Rossi has brought up that he doubts you, and after what I heard of your conversation with Reid earlier, I have to start to doubt you too.'

Michelle dared to look up at her supervisor, and saw no emotion on Hotch's face whatsoever. 'We cannot doubt each other when there are lives at stake; I understand.'

'You have to prove yourself more than any other agent to join the BAU, because of your history, Michelle, and the fact that we had little chance to assess your merits as a profiler before you were shot.' He reminded her. 'I had my reservations about taking you onto my team with your record. I thought for sure you and Morgan would become entangled, and that it would turn out badly. But despite that, I saw that your potential was tremendous.'

'So what does this conversation mean to me then?'

'Prove to me that you are a brilliant profiler, with or without Dilaudid, or else I will ask you to take a leave of absence until you are clean.'

Michelle nodded. What could she say? Hotch was right, and she knew when to accept that he was. Turning to leave, she stopped at the door. 'I had just turned thirteen when I started at Caltech. Some people would say that caused me to grow up quickly, but I disagree; I managed to get by without growing up at all. But I can't put it off any longer; not if people's lives are at stake.'

* * *

It was obvious that whatever Hotch had said to Michelle had hit home, as they drove home in silence. Reid knew better than to ask her about it though; at least until she had it sorted out for herself. Then she'd talk on her own, probably. The fact that she wasn't fuming said that he hadn't taken disciplinary action; probably just gave her a warning.

'I'm crap about talking about myself.' She said suddenly. 'I've been that way ever since I started using the first time. And I don't really know how I made it through Detox, and I pretty much failed at NA meetings, which is why I stopped going. Plus, no one thought that this teenage kid was serious, and really I wasn't; I was going because I was told to. So I'm crap about talking about myself to anyone else, and I hate talking about feelings 99% of the time.'

'You managed to tell me you love me.' He reminded her. 'And that's probably the toughest feeling for anybody to talk about.'

'Actually, it was more like you told me, and I just reciprocated. But the point is, I will probably say I don't want to talk about _whatever_ it is; but that doesn't mean I can't or won't. You just need to be patient with me, okay? I'm still kinda working on growing up properly; I'm reckless because I'm a teenager at heart, if that makes any sense.'

'It does. Being a child prodigy and genius comes with its own emotional issues. Just like living in a single parent household, losing a family member at a young age, and having a parent with a disease or disability.'

Michelle screwed up her face. 'Now you're just generalizing.'

'In the vast majority of cases, it's true.' Reid rectified. 'And the vast majority of people have one emotional issue or another. Therefore, it makes us quite common in that respect.'

She seemed more than willing to accept that. 'Did you ever wish you'd been one of the "normal" kids, Spence. Where all you had to think about was spelling, and multiplication, and what your mom was planning for dinner that night, and if your favourite cartoon was on before you went to bed?'

He had; almost every day growing up. Until he'd gone to Caltech, and met her. Michelle had not only made him feel less alone, but also like there was a chance of having some normalcy in his life. She'd mastered the art of being social, and not talking down to everyone. Michelle probably still didn't know how much he'd admired—even idolised—her for that. 'I used to wish I was normal, until I realized there were perks to being abnormal.'

Pulling into the parking lot of his building, they got out and headed for the elevator. 'I'm not really that hungry.' Michelle said quietly. 'I think I want to just nap for a bit.'

'We could do that, eat late, and then watch a movie before bed.' Reid suggested.

'Sounds nice. Kind of normal, but nice.'

**

* * *

**

R&R?


	14. Chapter 14

**Go ahead. Flame me for disappearing and not updating in forever. God only knows I deserve it.  
Anyways, I wanted to let this chapter be an insight into Reid and Michelle's minds at this point. And I always find the time when you are your most honest is between midnight and two in the morning. **

It was nearly two in the morning, and Michelle was still wide awake. Beside her, Reid was snoring quietly, and the entire building seemed silent. It was like they were alone in the building; like they were the only ones alive. It was a creepy thought; one that came with being up in the very early morning. A thought that could be either quenched, or exasperated by a couple of cc's of Dilaudid...

It didn't help that the vial was still sitting on the nightstand, catching the faint glow of streetlights. It was unearthly, how it caught the light like that. Like some fabled treasure. An elixir to give the taker blissful, oblivion-like sleep. Just two cc's...

A twitch from Reid made Michelle turn to look at him. He would be so disappointed in her, if she followed through with the idea. She had asked for his help, in keeping her use under control. Abusing like she wanted to now could destroy all they were building together.

But the coolly illuminated vial was so inviting; begging for a needle to puncture the rubber stopper. Hell, it even had her name on it; _Michelle Alexandra Soraley _in clear, bold print. If that didn't give her the right to "take as needed"... But she couldn't; be strong, Michelle, fight the craving. She had to fight the urge, or else she would have failed. 'It's not just about me anymore.' She whispered aloud.

It was true; there was more than just a silly teenager riding on this now. There was her career, her friendships, her future with Reid; everything that mattered to her so much more now. It wasn't like she had nothing to lose now...

'Michelle... are you awake?' Reid asked groggily. 'We have to be up in four hours.'

'I know.' She said, sitting up and wrapping her arms around her knees. 'I just... I just have a bad craving.'

He understood, and drew her into a protective embrace. 'Anything you want me to do?'

'Put the vial away please. It's right in the light, and I don't really trust myself to touch it right now.'

Within seconds, the vial was out of sight in the nightstand drawer. 'I couldn't stand to see it there either, when I was still using.' Reid admitted. 'Too much temptation.'

'Spence, can you tell me about getting clean?' Michelle asked softly. She had no idea where the question had come from, but she wanted to hear it anyways.

'It wasn't as dramatic as going to rehab, or the hospital. I was here, with Gideon and sometimes Morgan. They took care of me; made me drink, and try to eat, and made sure I didn't go out to get more drugs. I remember thinking that it was torture, but it would be worth it. And at least I knew someone cared, even if Gideon left a couple of months later.'

There was a bitterness in his voice as he said this, and Michelle knew it was because of Gideon. He would always feel this way about the man who had abandoned him like his own father had, with even less reason. 'He didn't leave because of you, Spence. He left because he was tired, and at the end of his career. Burn out.'

'I don't even know if he's alive, Michelle.' He reminded her. 'He never gave me a phone call, or a letter, or even an email. For all I know, Gideon found some dark corner in the world and killed himself.'

'Maybe he just doesn't want to dredge up hurt feelings that would come with a call or a letter. Maybe he doesn't want to give you a chance to find him; he's moved on.'

There was no reply to this; Reid just held her closer, and they lay awake in the dark for a couple more hours. They both knew the other wasn't asleep, but neither wanted to say anything. What was there to say? Reid didn't have the words to accept what Gideon had done, and Michelle didn't have the words to make it all better.

* * *

'Spence, can I ask you something?'

Reid looked up from his paperwork to see JJ perched on the edge of his desk. 'Sure, what is it?'

The blonde's gaze flickered over to where Michelle stood talking to Garcia. 'You and Michelle both seem... off lately. Is there something going on?'

'What would be going on?'

JJ shrugged. 'I don't even know. It's just that she kind of clings to you a bit, and she's starting to act like...'

He could read her look; Michelle was acting the way he had while he was abusing. Nervous, distracted, touchy... it was all there. If Michelle had been battling her past, she was losing now. 'I'm worried that when the month is over, Michelle won't want to get clean again, and I'm going to lose her again.' Reid confessed. 'It was hard enough the first time, I don't want to go through it twice.'

'What happened when Michelle left Cal Tech?'

'A lot of things. I begged her not to leave, and we said a lot of things to each other that we didn't mean. I called her a sociopath, and I _think_ she may have called me negativistic. But she couldn't explain properly why she was leaving Cal Tech; it wasn't about the money, or the classes.'

Looking up at JJ, Reid could see that she felt unable to provide answers. 'It's probably only something Michelle could explain, if she even figured it out for herself.' He added. 'Maybe if she did, she'd be able to recover.'

'Maybe.' JJ agreed, turning to watch Michelle again. Reid could see that she looked ready to run away, even as she laughed at something Garcia said. Did she even realize her hand holding her coffee cup was shaking? Or that she was constantly biting the inside of her cheek? Probably not; he himself had been surprised to find the scar tissue he'd built up doing just that.

'She'll get better, Spence. Michelle's tough.'

'She can be the strongest-willed person alive, but she'll only get better if and when she wants to, JJ. And I have to wonder if I made a mistake by promising to help her.'

'You did what you thought was best for your friend.' JJ reminded him. 'I can't say I would've done the same, but I'm not really one to judge. Her doctors seemed to think it was viable to put her on Dilaudid, and maybe it was; maybe it'll work out for the best. This time she's not alone, Spence, she has you.'

Reid snorted. 'Like I'm much help; I'm just enabling her—'

'You love her; you'll do anything for her, Spence, I can tell. And when the time comes for Michelle to get clean, you'll do what's right and help her then. They call it tough love.'

'Well, I may be a genius, but I'm still completely clueless in the field of love. And I don't think they offer doctorates in it either.'

JJ laughed, and ruffled his hair. 'Garcia tutors in it off the books; I'll sign you up for some lessons.'

'Lessons in what?'

Michelle and Garcia appeared as if out of nowhere, both still giggling over something. 'If it's lessons in self-defence from Morgan, I wouldn't bother; he's going to be all tied-up with Emily for awhile.' Garcia informed them, smirking. 'Seems he's forgone his rule of never messing with a woman with a gun.'

'Hey, I'm a better shot than Emily,' Michelle piped up. 'And that never stopped any of my...indiscretions.'

'Is that what they put down in your file? Because I would certainly like to get in there and change it to steamy hook-ups.' The tech giggled. 'Imagine Strauss' face!'

'Something tells me Hotch would kill you on the spot.' JJ warned her. 'Tech goddess or not.'

'Ah, but I'd have my brilliant markswoman Michelle to protect me!'

'Hell no; I think I've taken enough lead to last me three lifetimes!'

Michelle laughed along with the others, but Reid picked up the unusual pitch to her voice, and knew she wasn't feeling well. Probably tired and achy, like he himself had felt during those hellish months of using. 'Michelle, do you want to ask Hotch about heading home early? I'm sure he'd understand.'

'Yeah, okay.'

The fact that she didn't argue with him belayed the casualty in her tone. 'You go ahead and get your stuff together—I'll tell him we're leaving.' Hotch would let them go. Michelle needed to rest if she was ever going to get better.

* * *

Reid couldn't help but glance at the clock again; still midnight. Michelle had fallen asleep after her dose, and stayed that way, but he was wired for sound. Either he'd had too much coffee, or his subconscious was torturing him. Because the truth was that he was starting to toss around the idea that Michelle had had the right idea—choosing the Dilaudid again. All this time, he'd been sure it was a bad choice, but what if good didn't mean right in this case? And what if he—

Reid mentally shook himself; he couldn't go back to that life. The drugs would cost him his job, his friends, his health, his self respect, his... But how much would those things matter if he had Dilaudid and Michelle? And he wasn't exactly happy right now the way things were.

Sitting up in bed, he reached across Michelle's still form, and grabbed a syringe from her bedside table. Then he pulled the near-empty vial and tourniquet out of the nightstand drawer. He'd never know if he didn't try, right?

Tying his arm off, he quickly glanced over at Michelle; still asleep. Then, by the moonlight, Reid drew up a single cc of the clear, cold drug, and checked for air bubbles. Sitting back against the headboard, he held his forearm out, exposing the veins ready to send euphoria straight to his brain.

He was about to slip the point of the needle into his flesh, when he felt a hand on his upper arm; Michelle was awake. Looking at her, with moonlight shining in her hair, and disappointment burning in her eyes, guilt and shame flooded Spencer Reid.

'Is this the first time, Spence?' She asked quietly, calmly.

'Yes.' He replied, equally calm, but when Michelle took the loaded syringe from him, it had the same sense of relief as if she'd taken a loaded gun from his hands. 'Tonight was the first time in a long time I've come this close to going back.'

'Spencer, you are stronger than this; you are far stronger that I am, and I need you to stay strong—if not for me than for yourself.'

Two tears snaked their way down her face, and shone like quicksilver. Why did the moon have to shine like this? It made the moment—the night—seem almost unreal. Like a strange dream...

'You're disappointed in me.'

She shrugged. 'A little, but not nearly as much as I am in myself most of the time. You've done great for so long, Spence; if our positions were reversed, I would have cracked long before now.'

He words made him feel a tiny bit better. Pulling off the tourniquet, he threw it back in the drawer. 'We should get some sleep.'

Cuddling up to Reid, Michelle sighed. 'I'm not all that tired now though, and you seem to be pretty wide awake yourself, Dr. Reid.'

He knew that tone by now; knew what Michelle was implying. But he couldn't help but play the innocent. 'We could go for a midnight walk around the block or maybe a drive around the neighbourhood...'

She rolled her eyes, and almost instantly had Reid pinned to the mattress. 'Or,' She breathed, lips just grazing over the shell of his ear, 'You could do us both a _mind-blowing_ favour, and take me around the world.'

* * *

**Like? Hate? Flame me for laziness? Or sympathize with the fact that I'm stuck working for an evil fast food chain? (I'm still in my Burger King Uniform) Anyways... give me a shout!**


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